HITE^CASTLES 


OTHEfrSIORIES 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES— PAGE  30. 


THE    WHITE  CASTLES 


AND 


OTHER   STORIES. 


BT 


POPULAR  AUTHORS. 


E.  P.   BUTTON   AND    COMPANY, 
713  BROADWAY. 

1872. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

E.   P.   BUTTON  AND   COMPANY, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


ST.   JOHSLAND  STEBEOTTPE  FOUNDBY,   SUFFOLK  CO.,   N.  T. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  HEINKICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

II.    THE    NEW-YEAE  GIFTS 

HL  THE  CHTLDEEN'S   SOCIETT.. 


5 

49 
135 


622711 


HEINRICH'S   WHITE  CASTLES. 

BY  THE   HON.   MRS.   GREENE. 
PART    I. 

O  you  are  going  to  part  with   little 
Heinrich  ?"  asked  Pierre  Straus,  as  he 
stopped    at   the   head  of  his  kine  of 
goats  in  front  of  Wilhelm  the  plaster- 
er's door. 

"Ay  am  I,  or  rather  he  is  going  to  part 
from  me  ;  now  that  the  little  chap  has  got  his 
senses  back,  he  is  craving  and  craving  to  be 
off;  and  why  should  I  prevent  him  when  he  is 
neither  kith  nor  kin  of  mine  ?" 

"  But  why  should  he  wish  to  leave  you  ? 
that  is  what  surprises  me  ;  what  does  he  intend 
to  do  ?  where  does  he  intend  to  go  ?  and  who 
will  provide  him  with  money  or  food — the 

(5) 


6  HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

pauvre  miserable,  who  has  not  got  a  sous  in 
his  pocket  ?"  asked  Pierre  in  one  breath. 

"  He  is  going  to  look  for  his  mother,  whom 
he  is  fully  persuaded  he  will  find  in  London  ; 
and  as  for  money,  I  am  making  him  a  couple 
of  casts  here,  which  I  have  little  doubt  will 
please  the  great  London  folks  and  bring  him 
in  no  little  silver  ;'.'  and  Wilhelm,  lifting  a 
cauldron  off  the  stove  beside  him,  poured  a 
thick  white  stream  of  plaster  of  Paris  into  the 
mould  before  him. 

"  Poor  little  chap  !"  observed  Pierre  kindly  ; 
"  so  he  is  going  to  look  for  his  mother,  is  he  ? 
and  in  London  too,  $a-ca  ;  he  might  as  well 
search  for  a  chamois'  tooth  amongst  the 
glaciers." 

"So  I  say,"  replied  Wilhelm,  setting  the 
cauldron  back  on  the  stove  ;  "  but  you  might 
as  well  argue  with  yon  plaster  head  of  Mars. 
If  I  say,  '  London  is  a  big  place  and  hard  to 
search  through,'  he  shakes  his  head  and  smiles. 
If  I  say,  '  Perhaps  she  has  left  it,'  he  shakes 
his  head  and  smiles  also.  If  I  say,  '  Perhaps 
she  is  dead,'  he  throws  himself  on  the  ground 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.  7 

and  weeps.  Ah  !  poor  little  miserable  !  he 
has  a  heart  like  a  ripe  fig,  which  bleeds  at  the 
touch ;  but  hush  !  here  he  comes. — Well, 
Heinrich,  what  merchandise  have  you  made 
to-day  ?  how  did  our  new  white  castles  please 
the  folk  in  the  town  ?" 

"  I  sold  two  of  them,  and  the  people  seemed 
greatly  pleased  ;  they  stood  in  the  street  to 
see  them  go  by." 

"  And  what  else,  mon  garden  ?" 

"  A  head  of  Mars  and  two  trotting-horses, 
so  you  see  I  have  done  well  to-day  ;  besides, 
Father  Wilhelm,  I  have  heard  good  news  in 
the  town  ;"  and  Heinrich,  setting  the  board  in 
front  of  the  chalet,  looked  up  at  Wilhelm  with 
an  earnest  glance. 

"  Eh,  that  is  well  ;  what  didst  thou  hear  ?" 

"  Monsieur  Francois,  the  guard  of  the  poste, 
has  promised  to  take  me  free  over  the  Jura,  so 
I  am  saved  that  long  walk,  and  I  shall  be  so 
many  miles  nearer  my  mother." 

The  two  men  interchanged  smiles,  and 
Pierre  Straus  taking  the  boy  by  the  hand,  said 
kindly,  "  Listen  to  me,  little  Heinrich,  and 


8  HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

believe  that  I  speak  for  your  good.  Surely 
you  cannot  hope  to  find  your  mother  in  such 
a  wide  place  as  this  big  world  of  ours  ;  would 
it  not  be  wiser,  my  son,  for  you  to  stay  with 
honest  Wilhelm,  who  has  been  and  is  as  good 
to  you  as  either  a  father  or  a  mother  ?" 

"Father  Wilhelm  is  very  good,"  replied 
Heinrich,  with  a  sad  smile  and  an  affectionate 
glance  towards  the  plasterer;  "he  is  very 
good,  but" — 

"  But,"  continued  Wilhelm,  with  a  good- 
tempered  laugh,  "  but  I  am  not  your  mother  ; 
is  it  not  so,  Heinrich  ?" 

Heinrich  nodded  his  head  ;  and  Pierre  con- 
tinued inquisitively  : 

"  Come,  little  fellow,  and  tell  us  ;  how  do 
you  intend  to  set  about  looking  for  her  ?  you 
cannot  knock  at  every  door  in  the  great  city 
of  London,  and  ask,  'Does  my  mother  live 
within  ?' " 

"  That  he  could  scarcely  do,"  replied  Wil- 
helm, "considering  he  does  not  even  know 
his  mother's  name." 

"  You  do  not  know  your  mother's  name  ?" 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.          9 

Heinrich  replied  by  a  sad  shake  of  the 
head. 

"Then  what  hope  can  you  have  of  finding 
her  ?" 

"  I  remember  her  face,"  cried  Heinrich,  with 
a  tremble  in  his  voice,  "  and  she  remembers 
mine.  I  remember  her  face,  and  I  will  sing 
for  her  until  I  find  her." 

"  Sing  for  her  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  will  sing  for  her  through  all  the 
streets  until  she  hears  me." 

"  Can  he  sing  ?"  asked  Pierre  rather  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Ay  can  he,  like  a  lark  ;  sing  for  him,  Hein- 
rich, my  child.  Sing  for  good  Pierre  the  song 
you  sang  for  me  last  night  ere  you  went  to 
bed." 

Heinrich  was  always  accustomed  to  yield 
to  Father  Wilhelm's  wishes,  so  he  rose  now 
from  the  little  bench  by  the  plasterer's  door, 
and  raising  his  eyes  with  an  innocent  longing 
to  the  sky  above  him,  began  in  a  sweet,  clear, 
but  intensely  melancholy  voice,  the  following 
song  : 


io         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

The  daisies  on  the  mountain  side, 
To  heaven  their  eyes  have  opened  wide  ; 
The  pastures  on  the  hills  are  green, 
The  cold,  cold  snow  no  more  is  seen  ; 
The  goats  come  down  to  tho  chalet  door, 
But  she  comes  home — ah  !  never  more. 

Mother  dear,  where  art  thou  ? 

The  rocks  are  high  and  tho  hills  are  steep, 

And  the  eyes  are  weary  which  always  weep  ; 

But  the  land  may  be  far,  and  the  sea  be  wide, 

And  the  eyes  may  grow  blind  which  so  long  have  cried. 

Still  I  know  I  shall  find  her  before  I  die, 

For  God  will  answer  the  orphan's  cry. 

Mother  dear,  where  art  thou  ? 

When  the  little  verse  was  sung,  and  the  singer 
had  sat  down  on  the  bench  again,  honest 
Pierre  rubbed  his  eyes  with  the  sleeve  of  his 
frieze  coat,  and  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
drew  out  a  rough  chamois  leather  bag. 
"  Here  is  a  franc  piece  to  add  to  the  little 
chap's  travelling  store,"  he  said,  as  thrusting 
his  fingers  into  the  pouch,  he  drew  out  with 
much  fumbling  a  silver  coin.  "  It  were  a  pity 
he  were  crossed,  and  he  with  such  a  great 
faith  in  the  good  God,  who  no  doubt  hears 
the  prayer  of  those  who  love  Him." 

"  Thanks,  Pierre. — Heinrich,  my  son,  stand 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         11 

up  and  lift  off  thy  cap  to  Pierre  Straus  for  his 
great  kindness  to  thee." 

Poor  Heinrich  stood  up  at  the  word  of 
command,  and  took  off  his  cap,  but  his  mind, 
scarcely  yet  accustomed  to  be  held  in  leash, 
had  wandered  off  into  a  dreamland  of  his  own; 
he  stood  there  in  the  evening  sunshine,  with 
his  fair  hair  hanging  all  uncombed  in  white 
curls  on  his  shoulders,  his  tearful  eyes  still 
raised  upwards,  and  a  quiver  on  "his  lip,  which 
spoke  of  an  inward  pain  of  mind  with  which  a 
stranger  might  not  meddle. 

"  Good  evening,  Heinrich.  I  wish  you  joy 
on  your  journey,  and  that  you  may  find  your 
poor  mother,  wherever  she  may  be." 

"  Good  evening,  Monsieur  Pierre,"  replied 
Heinrich,  recovering  at  the  sound  of  his 
mother's  name  ;  "  when  I  have  found  her,  she 
shall  write  and  tell  you  the  good  news." 

"  Ay,  do,  my  son  ;  and  there  shall  be  a 
bonfire,  I  promise  you,  lit  in  the  valley,  the 
flames  of  which  shall  spread  far  and  wide  to 
tell  the  glad  tidings." 

Poor  Heinrich  !  the  search  for  his  mother 


12         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

did  indeed  appear,  to  all  minds  save  his  own, 
a  hopeless  one.  She  had  left  Switzerland  two 
years  before  as  maid  in  an  English  family,  and 
save  for  one  letter  received  by  her  son  a  fort- 
night after  her  departure,  nothing  had  been 
heard  of  her  since  ;  nor  was  it  likely  that  any- 
thing more  would  be  heard  of  her,  for  scarcely 
had  the  poor  woman  been  settled  a  month  in 
England,  when  the  terrible  tidings  from  the 
Valley  des  Bagnes  reached  her,  that  the  great 
wall  of  ice  at  the  head  of  the  lake  had  burst, 
and  the  mass  of  waters  which  had  been  so 
long  pent  up  behind  it,  had  rushed  down  the 
valley,  carrying  everything  before  it.  Trees, 
cattle,  and  houses  were  swept  away  in  the 
turbid  waves,  and  amongst  others  the  chalet 
into  which,  with  her  own  hands,  but  a  month 
before,  she  had  led  little  Heinrich  with  bitter 
tears,  and  committed  him  to  the  care  of  her 
aunt,  a  kind  motherly  woman,  who,  being 
childless,  had  offered  to  keep  him  free  of  ex- 
pense,'and  take  all  possible  care  of  him,  till 
she  should  return  with  the  necessary  money, 
to  secure  him  a  good  education  and  a  trade. 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         13 

Every  search  was  set  on  foot  by  the  dis- 
tracted mother.  She  was  allowed  six  weeks 
to  prosecute  it,  and  given  the  necessary  funds 
for  her  journey  by  her  indulgent  master  and 
mistress,  with  the  permission  to  return  were 
she  unfortunate  in  the  object  she  had  in  view. 
But  vain  were  all  her  efforts  ;  a  dreary  silence 
reigned  in  the  valley ;  there  was  no  cry  to 
arise  from  amongst  the  blocks  of  granite  and 
fir  trees  lying  blasted  on  their  sides.  No 
child's  voice  lifted  up  pitifully  as  she  passed 
on,  to  say,  "  Mother,  come  this  way  ;  here 
perished  thy  little  Heinrich  ;  here  the  cruel 
waters  covered  me ;  but  my  last  thoughts 
were  of  thee." 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  Heinrich's  mother 
returned  to  England  a  broken-hearted  woman. 
She  had  not  even  a  relic  of  the  son  she  had 
lost  ;  not  a  last  word,  or  a  last  look,  to  carry 
home  in  her  heart.  And  ever  before  her  eyes 
she  saw  the  struggle  for  life  in  the  turbulent 
waters,  the  cry  for  help  when  there  was  none 
near  to  save,  and  the  pale  lifeless  form  of  her 
only  child  lying  somewhere  out  of  sight,  a 


14         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

prey  to  the  wild  creatures  of  the  forest  close 
by  ;  for  though  some  had  recovered  their  dead, 
she  had  not  been  able  to  do  so. 

Poor  Heinrich  !  there  had  been  some  one 
near  to  save  when  he  cried  in  his  sore  distress. 
"The  God  of  the  fatherless,  and  widow." 
When  the  first  boom  of  the  bursting  dam  was 
heard,  and  the  first  bright  rush  of  waters  came 
down  the  valley,  carrying,  sunshine  on  its 
bosom,  but  death  at  its  heart,  Heinrich  was 
on  the  hill-side,  sitting  among  the  goats, 
singing  to  himself  in  the  beautiful  child's 
treble  for  which  he  was  already  famous — sing- 
ing little  words  and  thoughts  of  his  own 
tacked  together  in  no  unmelodious  rhyme — 
when  a  sound  like  a  distant  roar  of  artillery 
high  up  among  the  lakes  and  glaciers,  startled 
the  boy  from  his  reclining  position  among  the 
heath-bells,  and  he  sat  up  and  listened.  Then 
there  was  a  great  cry  from  the  village  ;  even 
the  goats  with  an  instinct  of  coming  danger 
ceased  to  browse,  and  Heinrich,  springing  to  his 
feet,  saw  already  the  gleam  of  the  approach- 
ing waters  as  they  hurried  down  the  valley. 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         15 

Women  came  out  of  the  cottages  and 
screamed,  holding  their  babies  to  their  breasts  ; 
men  hurried  down  from  their  work  in  the  fields, 
and  taking  their  children  by  the  hands,  rushed 
madly  forward  towards  the  plain  ;  whilst 
others,  wiser  in  their  trouble,  made  for  the 
mountains.  But  Heinrich,  aware  of  some  dan- 
ger, though  scarcely  realizing  its  full  extent, 
hastened  down  the  meadow  into  the  chalet  in 
search  of  his  aunt,  but  she  was  nowhere  to  be 
found  ;  and  ere  he  could  return  to  the  chalet 
door,  the  waters  were  upon  him.  In  a  moment 
all  was  a  wild  confusion  ;  the  chalet  walls, 
with  an  expiring  groan,  yielded  to  the 
pressure  of  the  flood  ;  the  house  rocked  to 
and  fro.  Heinrich  flung  himself  on  his  knees  by 
the  little  bed  where  his  mother  had  given  the 
parting  kiss,  and  lifted  his  eyes  towards 
heaven,  or  rather  to  the  patch  of  blue  sky 
which  was  terribly  visible  through  the  shat- 
tered glass. 

The  lifting  up  of  a  child's  eyes  to  heaven  is 
the  purest  of  all  prayer,  and  God  heard  the  un- 
spoken words  of  poor  Heinrich's  appeal. 


16         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

Many,  many  hours  later,  caught  in  the 
branches  of  a  monster  fir  tree,  which  had  done 
fierce  battle  with  the  water,  and  now  lay 
stranded  on  its  side,  a  poor  plasterer,  returning 
to  his  chalet  on  the  mountain  side,  found  the 
body  of  poor  little  Heinrich  ;  he  lifted  it  up 
tenderly,  and  carried  it  to  his  home,  among 
the  sweet-smelling  pines  ;  for  though  the  blue 
chill  of  the  waters  was  on  the  face,  there  was 
a  throb  of  life  in  the  young  heart  still.  He 
carried  it  home  ;  and  though  he  was  a  poor 
deformed  bachelor,  living  alone  amongst  the 
rocks  and  forest  pines,  God  had  given  him  a 
soft  heart,  and  woman's  hands,  gentle  and 
kind  in  their  touch  ;  and  ere  the  morning 
dawned  the  fluttering  pulse  had  steadied  down, 
the  light  had  returned  to  the  wide-open  eyes, 
and  warmth  to  the  dimpled  cheek  ;  but  alas  ! 
the  sudden  shock,  or  the  wound  beneath  the 
white  curls,  had  robbed  poor  Heinrich  of  his 
little  earnest  mind,  and  all  the  quaintly  dili- 
gent thoughts  of  love  and  peace,  which  up  to 
this  time  had  ever  toiled  on  happily  within  it. 

For  one  long  year  and  a  day  this  lull  of 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         17 

thought  and  energy  had  lasted  ;  for  one  long 
year  and  a  day  good  Wilhelm  the  plasterer 
had  tended  and  fed  and  prayed  by  the  little 
lad's  bed.  And  then  in  the  morning,  when 
the  birds  were  singing,  and  the  goat -bells 
were  tinkling  on  the  hill  side,  in  the  early 
morning  when  the  plasterer  stooped  over  the 
bed,  Heinrich  asked  for  '  his  mother.' 

Since  that  morning  another  year  and  a  day 
had  rolled  by,  bringing  each  morning  fresh 
strength  and  health  to  the  boy  ;  his  thoughts 
gradually  issued  from  the  great  mist  which  a 
sudden  fear  had  brought  upon  them.  He 
could  understand  all  that  Wilhelm  said  to  him. 
He  could  go  on  messages  into  the  neighboring 
town.  He  could  drive  the  goats  to  pasture  ; 
but  the  past  was  a  blank,  an  utter  blank,  save 
the  one  thing  which  lay  like  a  glory  on  the 
darkness— his  mother — his  mother,  with  the 
fair  hair  and  the  quiet  eyes,  and  the  lips  which 
had  kissed  his,  and  the  voice  which  called 
unceasingly  in  his  ears,  "  Heinrich,  Heinrich, 
do  not  forget  me  !" 

In   the  pocket   of  his  little  jerkin,  almost 
2 


1 8         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

illegible  from  lying  so  long  in  the  water,  the 
plasterer  found  a  letter  without  either  address 
or  signature.  It  began  with  the  words, 
"  Heinrich,  my  son,"  and  ended  with  the  name, 
'  Mother  :'  from  this  paper,  as  far  as  Wilhelm 
(who  was  no  great  scholar)  could  decipher, 
this  letter  had  been  written  from  some  place 
either  in  the  town  of  London  or  its  suburbs. 
And  this  was  all  the  intelligence  or  assistance 
he  drew  from  it  for  poor  Heinrich,  as  he  sat 
opposite  to  him  with  earnest  inquiring  eyes. 
It  was  enough,  however  ;  and  as  Heinrich's 
mind  and  limbs  recovered  strength,  so  grew 
the  firm  intention  to  search  for  her  even  unto 
death. 

At  first  Wilhelm  had  tried  to  wean  the  boy 
•from  his  purpose.  Was  not  this  dove  which 
had  fluttered  out  of  the  great  flood  to  his  ark 
in  the  woods  his  own  ?  had  he  not  warmed  it 
in  his  bosom,  and  given  to  it  the  great  love  of 
a  great  heart  ?  But  then,  again,  was  not  it  an 
honest  heart  as  well  as  a  kind  one  ?  and  was 
not  it  his  duty,  if  indeed  this  mother  still  lived, 
to  allow  the  boy  to  seek  out  the  one  to  whom 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         19 

he  really  belonged,  and  lay  the  olive  branch 
in  her  bosom,  which  must  be  rifled  from  his 
own  ? 

So  the  moment  for  the  parting  had  come  ; 
and  though  the  resolution  was  strong  in 
Wilhelm's  spirit,  the  flesh  was  very  weak.  As 
he  waved  his  cap  to  the  little  lad  seated  on 
high  beside  the  conductor  of  the  diligence, 
there  were  tears  of  compassion  in  the  eyes  of 
many,  when  the  plasterer,  staggering  back  to 
the  bench  beside  the  wooden  pump  at  the  inn 
door,  covered  his  face  with  his  leathern  apron 
and  wept. 


PART    II. 

'KITE  CASTLES  !  who  will  buy  my 
white  castles  ?  Good  ladies  and 
little  children,  white  castles  for 
sale  !" 

It  was  a  bright  night  in  the  great 
city  of  London — a  bright  night,  on  which  moon 
and  stars  were  visible,  and  the  white  snow  a  foot 
deep  on  the  ground.  But  with  all  its  bright- 
ness it  was  a  bad  night  for  Heinrich's  trade  ; 
for  when  the  moon  shone  one  could  scarcely 
notice  the  white  houses  which  he  carried  on 
his  head  ;  but  when  all  was  dark,  how  beauti- 
ful they  looked  with  their  stained  glass 
windows  and  the  soft  light  burning  inside  ! 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        21 

Theie  was  scarcely  a  child  or  a  woman  in  the 
Camden  Town  direction  who  did  not  know 
already  the  plaintive  cry  of  the  boy's  voice  as 
it  came  up  the  street,  and  many  an  eager  little 
hand  unbolted  the  shutter  or  drew  back  the 
blind  to  see  the  mysterious  castles  pass  by, 
with  their  lighted  turrets  and  oriel  windows  ; 
or  better  still,  if  the  boy,  seeing  a  stir  at  the 
window,  stopped  beneath  and  sang  for  them, 
as  he  sometimes  did,  in  a  voice  so  clear,  and 
yet  full  of  melancholy,  that  the  children 
listened  entranced,  and  mothers  who  had  sons 
of  their  own  wiped  the  tears  from  their  eyes. 

It  was  a  thriving  trade,  this  of  the  white 
castles,  and  Father  Wilhelm  had  not  been  so 
far  astray  when  he  said  he  thought  he  would 
please  the  great  London  folk  with  his  wares. 
Heinrich  had  already  sold  over  a  hundred  of 
his  white  moulds,  and  if  money  alone  had  been 
his  object  in  coming  to  settle  in  this  busy 
foreign  town,  he  was  well  repaid.  Not  a  night 
but  he  sold  two  or  three  of  the  castles,  realiz- 
ing on  each  mould  a  sum  of  a  shilling  ;  so  he 
had  enough  money  for  his  lodging,  and  yet  to 


22         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

put  aside  each  day  a  small  sum  towards  darker 
or  happier  hours. 

Poor  Heinrich  !  he  did  not  seem  to  thrive 
on  his  success.  He  had  been  now  three 
months  in  London,  and  already  there  was  such 
a  change  in  the  soft  rounded  cheeks  and  the 
childish  eyes,  that  Wilhelm  would  have  wept 
had  he  met  him  in  the  street  ;  and  yet  he  had 
fallen  into  kind  hands  again  in  London.  He 
was  lodging  with  an  old  Italian  modeller,  by 
name  Salvi,  in  the  outskirts  of  Camden  Town, 
who  was  as  good  to  him  as  man  could  be  ; 
but  the  sudden  change  from  blue  skies,  bracing 
air,  and  the  smell  of  sweet  pine  trees,  to  the 
smoke,  fog,  and  roar  of  London,  seemed  to 
have  told  upon  the  boy  ;  and  the  little  gentle 
heart,  so  full  of  a  lively  purpose,  and  a  livelier 
courage,  had  sunk  day  by  day,  and  the  mind, 
which  had  grown  strong  in  hope,  threatened 
now  to  faint  back  to  its  original  weakness. 

With  the  unreasoning  confidence  of  a  child, 
Heinrich  had  expected  to  find  his  mother 
within  at  least  a  few  days  of  his  arrival  ;  but 
now  his  heart  had  sunk,  when  not  only  day  by 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        23 

day  went  by,  but  week  by  week,  without  any 
intelligence  of  her,  and  worse  still,  time  only 
served  to  recall  to  him  the  magnitude  of  the 
task  he  had  undertaken,  for  London  and  its 
suburbs  seemed  now  to  his  unpractised  eyes  to 
occupy  a  greater  space  of  this  earth  than  the 
great  range  of  the  Jura  which  had  stretched 
beyond  his  former  home.  Still  there  was  no 
irresolution,  no  wavering  of  purpose,  no  long 
sighs  after  the  green  pastures  and  tinkling  of 
goat-bells  ;  no,  all  that  remained  of  hope  and 
energy  was  still  concentrated  on  the  one 
object — his  mother  ;  and  in  search  of  her  he 
started  out  each  evening,  taking  by  the 
modeller's  advice  every  week  a  new  portion  of 
the  great  city  on  whose  confines  they  lived. 

The  summer  weather  and  the  sunshine  had 
by  this  time  faded  away  altogether,  and  in  its 
place  had  come  fog,  rain,  and  daily  darkness, 
and  now  again  snow  and  a  chilling  frost. 
Heinrich  has  grown  to  a  mere  shadow  now. 
There  were  high  cheek-bones  where  baby's 
dimples  had  lain  before,  and  hope  had  almost 
disappeared  from  the  blue  eyes,  and  in  its 


24         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

place  had  come  a  listless  melancholy  which 
could  at  times  darken  into  pain,  and  at  other 
times  frightened  the  affectionate  heart  of  old 
Salvi  with  their  meaningless  appeal. 

"  My  son,  what  hast  thou  ?"  said  Salvi  one 
morning,  as  he  noticed  the  boy  sitting  for  more 
than  an  hour  motionless  in  front  of  one  of  the 
white  castles  he  was  in  the  habit  of  carrying 
on  his  head,  and  staring  into  its  stained  glass 
windows  with  an  earnestness  which  produced 
tears.  "  My  son,  what  hast  thou  ?  Come, 
rouse  thyself.  I  cannot  work  all  day  while 
thou  sittest  idle  :  of  what  thinkest  thou,  with 
thy  great  blue  eyes  full  of  salt-water  ?" 

Heinrich  started  round  from  his  reverie,  and 
looked  at  the  modeller's  face,  a  sharp  face  with 
hooked  nose,  and  beetling  brows,  but  kind 
eyes  beneath  them. 

"  Of  what  thinkest  thou,  I  say  ?  Come,  stir 
this  pot  of  plaster,  and  thyself  at  the  same 
time." 

Heinrich  rose  from  the  bench,  and  drew 
near  the  fire  by  which  the  plasterer  stood  ;  it 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         25 

was  a  cold  day,  the  snow  was  falling  heavily 
outside,  but  the  boy  had  not  noticed  it. 

The  old  man's  voice  had  been  rough,  but 
there  was  a  kindly  gleam  in  the  gray  eyes 
when  Heinrich,  laying  his  white  hand  on  his 
own  brown  and  sinewy  arm,  said,  in  an  earnest, 
anxious  tone,  as  if  following  out  his  former 
thoughts : 

"  Monsieur  Salvi,  are  there  any  white  build- 
ings— castles,  I  mean — in  London  ?" 

"White  castles,  eh,  lad  ?  what  a  question,  to 
be  sure  !  There  is  not  a  castle  in  all  the  city 
I  know  of  except  Windsor  Castle,  and  that's 
a  bit  outside  the  town,  and  more  gray  than 
white.  Why,  what  hast  thou  got  in  thy  head 
now  ?" 

It  was  the  same  answer  he  always  gave — 
poor  Heinrich  ! — "  My  mother.  I  dreamt  last 
night  I  saw  her  in  yon  white  castle  on  the 
shelf.  I  saw  her  quite  plainly  with  her  yellow 
hair  and  her  black  dress,  and  she  opened  the 
window  when  I  cried,  and  called  me  by  my 
name." 

"  Well,  and  what  then  ?  a  dream  is  only  a 


26         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

dream,"  replied  Salvi  kindly.  "Thou  canst 
not  hope,  poverino,  by  staring  at  yon  block  of 
plaster,  to  see  thy  mother  come  forth.  Che, 
che  !  I  tell  thee,  little  Heinrich,  if  thou  goest 
on  at  this  pace,  when  the  good  God  gives  her 
back  to  thee,  thou  wilt  not  be  worth  the 
caring  for,  but  just  a  bit  of  a  shadow  who  will 
slip  through  her  arms  when  she  seeketh  to 
hold  thee  the  tightest." 

Heinrich  looked  up  into  the  kind  old  face 
which  was  bent  over  him,  and  smiled  one  of 
the  strange  sweet  smiles  which  came  so  seldom 
now ;  the  thoughts  suggested  by  the  mo- 
deller's words  were  not  altogether  full  of  pain  ; 
and  presently,  as  if  to  assure  himself  of  how 
much  they  were  worth,  he  asked  almost  in  a 
whisper,  "  Then  thou  thinkest,  good  Salvi, 
that  God  will  give  her  back  to  me  ?" 

"Don't  ask  me  what  I  think,"  he  replied 
quickly  ;  "  thy  faith  is  great,  and  God  is  good  : 
God  is  good — that  ought  to  be  enough  both  for 
you  and  me.  If  He  thinks  well  of  it,  thou 
wilt  have  her  ;  and  if  not,  what  then  ?  Life 
seems,  no  doubt,  a  bit  long  to  the  young  ;  but. 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        27 

Cospetto,  thou  dost  not  seem  to  have  much 
of  it  left  in  thy  poor  little  body." 
^  All  that  long  day  it  snowed,  and  all  the 
long  night  too,  and  for  many  days  and  nights 
afterwards  ;  so  that  Heinrich  was  obliged  to 
keep  in-doors  for  a  whole  week,  without  being 
able  to  sell  a  single  castle,  or  to  prosecute  his 
search. 

But  at  length  there  came  a  lull  in  the  storm, 
and  a  hard  frost  set  in,  making  the  snow  suffi- 
ciently firm  for  Heinrich  to  attempt  walking 
upon  it. 

Although  it  was  early  morning,  Heinrich 
declared  his  intention  of  setting  off  at  once, 
with  his  board  of  white  castles  balanced 
carefully  on  the  top  of  his  head.  Old  Salvi 
pleaded  that  they  looked  like  so  many  white- 
washed stables  in  the  daylight  ;  but  Heinrich, 
who  seemed  to  have  a  fixed  purpose  of  his 
own,  persevered  in  his  intention,  and  going 
out  into  the  cold  street,  turned  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  city. 

Whether  it  was  the  bright  sun  coming  out 
after  so  many  days  of  gloom  and  darkness,  or 


28         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

whether  it  was  owing  to  the  clear  crisp  feeling 
of  the  air,  poor  Heinrich's  heart  was  full  of  a 
strange  eager  hope  as  he  started  on  his 
journey  into  the  town,  and  little  joyous  bursts 
of  song  issued  unconsciously  through  his  lips 
as  he  walked  along. 

A  strange  fancy  had  taken  possession  of  his 
head,  that  to-day  he  would  meet  somewhere 
the  White  Castle  of  his  dreams  ;  for  not  only 
had  he  dreamt  of  it  once,  but  every  night  : 
the  first  object  which  haunted  his  sleep  on 
lying  down  was  the  White  Castle  he  had  seen 
in  his  first  dream,  with  his  mother's  face  at 
the  window. 

Heinrich  had  not  hoped  to  sell  much  during 
the  day-time,  especially  with  the  clear  white 
snow  on  the  ground,  which  made  even  his 
castles  look  buff-colored  and  dingy  ;  but  he 
had  not  proceeded  very  far  into  the  city,  when 
he  was  stopped  by  a  servant  standing  at  the 
door  of  a  carriage,  and  desired  to  show  his 
wares. 

Heinrich  lowered  his  board,  and  stood  with 
uncovered  head  before  the  carriage  window  ; 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         29 

while  a  young,  pretty-looking  mother,  with 
her  child  on  her  knee,  minutely  examined  the 
plaster  models  which  good  Wilhelm  had  made 
for  him  in  the  pine-wood  long  ago. 

"  How  much  is  this  white  house  ?"  she  said 
at  length,  fixing  on  the  more  modern  of  the 
two  buildings. 

"  One  shilling  and  sixpence,  good  madame," 
replied  Heinrich  civilly. 

"  I  will  take  it,  then." 

"  Ah,  mother  dear,  don't  buy  that  one  ;  buy 
me  instead  the  white  castle,"  said  the  little 
girl,  raising  her  head  painfully  from  her 
mother's  shoulder,  and  stretching  out  a  little 
thin  white  hand  ;  "  buy  me  the  white  castle 
instead,  it  is  so  like  our  own  house — our  own 
white  castle  on  the  hill." 

Heinrich  took  one  of  the  plaster  houses 
from  his  board,  and  handed  it  in  at  the 
carriage  window.  "There,  miss,"  he  said, 
"  you  can  have  this  one  for  yourself — I  will 
give  it  you  ;  only  be  so  kind,  I  pray,  to  tell  me 
where  is  the  White  Castle  on  the  hill,  that  I 
may  search  for  it  by-and-by  until  I  find  it." 


30         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

"Ah  !  you  would  never  find  it  ;  our  home  is 
a  long  way  off,  at  Norwood,  a  long,  long  day's 
walk  for  a  little  boy  like  you  !" 

The  lady  insisted  on  paying  Heinrich  for 
the  two  castles  taken  from  his  board,  and  the 
coroneted  carriage  rolled  off,  leaving  little 
Heinrich  standing  with  his  fair  hair  still  all 
uncovered  on  his  shoulders,  and  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  opposite  houses  in  a  kind  of  trance. 

But  by-and-by  he  shouldered  his  board 
again,  and  set  off  on  his  journey — "  a  long,  long 
day's  walk  !"  the  little  girl  had  said  pitifully, 
as  she  looked  into  Heinrich's  sad  eyes,  and 
then  laid  her  head  down  again  on  her  mother's 
shoulders  ;  and  a  long,  long  day's  walk  it  was 
for  poor  Heinrich,  who,  constantly  asking  his 
way,  and  constantly  pressing  forward,  drew 
at  .length  a  little  nearer  to  the  southerly 
suburbs  of  London. 

The  short  winter  day  had  long  ago  darkened 
into  night,  and  now  the  stars  overhead  were 
shining,  with  a  promise,  by  the  yellow  dawn 
in  the  east,  of  a  moon.  Heinrich  was  so  tired 
and  hungry,  he  could  walk  no  further  without 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        31 

some  food  and  rest.  He  turned  into  a  baker's 
shop,  and  setting  his  board  down  on  a  far 
counter,  purchased  a  penny  roll,  and  sat  down 
to  eat  it.  After  a  minute  or  two,  overcome 
by  fatigue,  he  fell  asleep  :  the  baker  had  pity 
on  the  poor  boy,  and  did  not  wake  him  ;  he 
had  a  son  at  home  who  was  weak  and  ailing, 
and  the  pale  weary  face  of  little  Heinrich,  as 
he  slept,  with  his  white  hair  hanging  over  the 
rails  of  the  chair,  touched  the  good  man's 
heart.  At  last  he  woke,  as  the  clock  in  the 
shop  struck  nine,  and  gazing  all  around  him 
bewilderedly,  rose  to  his  feet. 

The  baker  came  forward,  and  helped  to  lift 
the  board  of  castles  on  his  head.  Then  he 
said  kindly,  as  he  put  a  couple  of  buns  in  the 
boy's  pocket,  "  Get  home  now,  lad,  for  thou 
art  tired." 

"How  far  is  it  to  Norwood  ?"  asked  Hein- 
rich, with  a  tired  sigh  as  he  moved  towards 
the  shop-door. 

"  To  Norwood,  lad  !  why,  it  is  half  a  day's 
journey  still  ;  you  are  never  going  to  walk  to 
Norwood  to-night,  in  the  cold  and  the  snow  ?" 


32         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Heinrich  feverishly  ;  "  I 
want  to  find  my  mother." 

"  Your  mother — poor  little  chap  !  Ah  !  if 
your  mother  is  waiting  for  you,  you  had  better 
hurry  on." 

To  Heinrich,  in  his  weak  and  overwrought 
frame  of  mind,  these  words  of  the  baker's 
seemed  to  take  possession  of  his  mind,  and 
ring  in  his  ears — "  Your  mother  is  waiting  for 
you,  you  had  better  hurry  on  ;" — and  so, 
plucking  up  a  little  fresh  strength,  he  pressed 
forward  on  his  self-imposed  journey. 


PART    III. 

IARIE  !  what  was  that  cry  I  heard  in 
the  distance  ?" 

"  Hush,  my  sweet  Mademoiselle  ! 
I  heard  no  cry.     Close   thy  little 
eyes,  and  seek  for  sleep  ;  it  is  past 
midnight." 

"  But,  Marie,  I  do  not  care  to  sleep,  for  my 
dreams  frighten  me.  I  dreamt  only  a  minute 
ago  that  the  white  castle  at  the  foot  of  my 
bed  was  on  fire,  and  that  I  saw  the  poor  little 
boy  in  the  flames  ;  and  then  I  awoke,  and 
thought  I  heard  him  crying  down  there  in  the 
street." 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  move  the  castle  out 
3  (33) 


34         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

of  thy  sight,  Mademoiselle  ;  or  shall  I  blow 
out  the  light  which  is  burning  inside  it  ?" 

"  No,  no,  good  Marie,  do  not  touch  it, 
please  ;  only  come  and  sit  beside  me,  and  I 
will  talk  to  you  about  the  little  boy  until  the 
dream  goes  out  of  my  head." 

Marie  rose  from  her  chair  at  the  foot  of  the 
little  crib,  where  she  had  been  seeking  to  read 
by  the  dim  colored  light  that  issued  through 
the  windows  of  the  plaster  castle,  and  took 
her  seat  by  the  sick  child. 

"  Marie,  listen  to  me." 

"Well,  Mademoiselle." 

"  I  would  like  to  sit  upon  your  knee  ;  the 
bed  is  so  hot,  and  my  head  is  aching." 

"  Poor  child  !  I  fear  the  drive  in  the  cold 
this  morning  has  increased  thy  fever.  Wait  a 
moment  till  I  light  a  candle,  and  find  thy  flan- 
nel shawl  to  wrap  round  thy  shoulders,  and 
then  thou  shalt  sit  on  my  lap,  and  I  will  sing 
thee  to  sleep." 

"  Canst  thou  sing,  Marie  ?" 

"Long  ago,  Mademoiselle,  I  sang  a  little, 
but  I  have  not  tried  lately."  Marie  stooped 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        35 

over  the  bed,  and  with  a  heavy  sigh  lifted  out 
the  little  girl.  "  Where  shall  we  sit,  Made- 
moiselle ?" 

"  Oh !  by  the  window.  I  want  to  look 
across  the  lawn  down  into  the  street,  for  per- 
haps the  little  boy  will  come  to-night." 

"  At  this  hour  of  the  night,  Mademoiselle, 
all  little  boys  are  in  bed  and  asleep,  as  you 
ought  to  be,  ma  pauvre  ;"  and  Marie  stroked 
the  burning  cheek  which  lay  against  her 
bosom,  and  kissed  it. 

"  Marie,  he  had  such  a  sweet  kind  face,  and 
long  white  curls  which  hung  upon  his 
shoulders." 

"Who,  my  child?" 

"  The  boy  who  carried  the  white  houses  on 
his  head — and  such  a  white  face,  and  large 
blue  eyes,  which  were  full  of  tears." 

"  He  must  have  been  in  trouble,  poor 
child  !"  said  Marie,  with  another  long  heavy 
sigh,  which  ended  almost  in  a  groan. 

"Do  you  know,  Marie,  who  I  thought  of 
when  I  saw  him  ?" 

"  No,  Mademoiselle." 


36         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

"  I  thought  of  your  son,  little  Heinrich,  who 
was  drowned." 

"  Hush  !  dear  child,  we  will  not  speak  of 
him.  I  trust  poor  Heinrich  knows  no  trouble 
now,  neither  hath  he  tears  in  his  eyes." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  little  girl  softly,  "  Hein- 
rich has  no  trouble  now  ;  but  the  boy  in  the 
street  has  plenty,  I  am  sure,  for  his  hands  and 
his  face  were  so  thin,  and  his  voice  sounded 
like  crying  ;  he  was  a  French  boy,  too,  for  he 
spoke  like  you,  Marie,  and  looked  in  the  same 
sad  way." 

"  Do  I  look  sad,  Mademoiselle  ?" 

"  Sometimes.  But  hush  !  Marie,  did  you 
not  hear  that  cry  again  ?  I  wish  you  would 
open  the  window  and  listen  ;  I  do  not  like  to 
think  that  boy  is  crying  in  the  street." 

"I  durst  not  open  the  window  ;  the  night 
air  would  chill  the  room,  and  give  thee  fresh 
cold.  There  are  no  boys  crying  in  the  street 
at  this  hour  of  the  night — at  least,  God  send 
it  may  not  be  so.  Go  to  sleep,  my  precious 
one." 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  room  for  some 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         37 

time.  The  pale  woman,  with  the  fair  hair  and 
black  dress,  rocked  to  and  fro  in  her  arms  the 
sick  child,  whose  quick  panting  breath  spoke 
of  the  fever  within  ;  and  presently  the  little 
wailing  voice  of  pain  broke  the  hush  of  the 
nursery. 

"  Marie,  my  head  aches  ;  did  not  you  say 
you  would  sing  ?" 

"  I  will  try,  Mademoiselle." 

"  '  The  birds  in  the  branches  do  sing  their  young  to  sleep  ; 
My  little  bird  is  in  his  nest,  why  should  I  weep  ? 
Why  should  I  weep  and  wail,  why  break  my  heart  ? 
Shall  we  not  meet  again,  never  to  part?'  " 

"  Marie,  you  are  crying  ;  I  felt  your  tears 
falling  on  my  face.  Are  you  thinking  of  your 
little  Heinrich  ?"  , 

"I  am  thinking  of  him — I  am  always  think- 
ing of  him  ;"  and  the  words  ended  in  a  sob. 

"  Marie,  look  !  what  are  those  lights  mov- 
ing far  down  there  in  the  street — those  colored 
lights  far  down  by  the  church  ?" 

"  I  see  nothing,  Mademoiselle,  only  the 
moon  shining  on  the  point  of  the  steeple." 

"  No,  no,  lower  down  ;   look  lower  down, 


33         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

Marie,  there  are  colored  lights  moving  along 
the  street.  It  is  the  boy  with  the  white 
castles.  I  am  sure  it  is  ;  he  said  he  would 
come." 

"  She  raves,  pauvre  enfant,"  said  Marie  in  a 
whisper,  as  she  drew  the  child  closer  to  her. 
"  There,  Mademoiselle  Alice,  turn  thy  head 
from  the  window,  and  lean  it  against  my 
bosom." 

"  No,  Marie  ;  for  if  I  sleep  I  shall  hear  that 
cry  again,  I  know  I  shall." 

"  You  will  not  hear  it,  my  child,  for  I  will 
carry  you  up  and  down  the  room  in  my  arms. 
There,  m'amie,  let  us  try."  And  rising  from 
the  window,  Marie  paced  the  room  up  and 
down  with  slow  measured  steps,  till  at  length 
the  gentle  movement  took  effect  over  the 
feverish  fancies  of  the  child,  and  she  fell  into 
a  sleep,  in  which  the  more  subdued  and  easier 
breathing  gave  promise  of  a  healthier  awaken- 
ing ;  and  Marie,  laying  the  little  girl  quietly 
back  into  bed,  took  her  seat  by  the  window, 
and  tears,  no  longer  held  under  restraint, 
poured  down  her  cheeks  in  the  moonlight. 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.         39 

Poor  Marie  !  the  old  trouble  had  been  stirred 
deeply  to-night,  and  she  knew  it  would  be 
useless  to  lie  down  and  seek  for  that  sleep 
which  came  so  seldom  now  at  her  bidding  ; 
besides,  it  would  be  well  to  sit  by  the  little 
girl's  bed,  and  watch  the  decline  of  the  fever. 
Hush  !  what  was  that  in  the  street  below  ? 
Was  it  that  cry  again  which  had  disturbed 
poor  Alice's  slumbers  ?  Marie  listened,  and 
wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  strained  down 
the  long  road  towards  the  church.  She  could 
see  the  figure  now  :  it  was  a  boy  ;  he  was 
standing  opposite  a  low  house  on  a  terrace, 
and  singing.  The  song  came  up  on  the  still 
air  like  a  long-drawn  wail  of  sorrow,  but  the 
air  was  a  familiar  one. 

What  could  bring  a  poor  boy  out  at  this 
hour  of  the  night,  so  desolate  and  lonely, 
carrying  his  wares  on  his  head,  and  singing  ? 

What  indeed  ?  Only  the  good  God  in  the 
sky  above,  He  who  had  led  little  Heinrich  all 
the  long  day,  and  guided  him  on  his  way  all 
the  long  weary  night — only  the  good  God 
who  answers  the  prayer  of  faith — knew  why. 


40         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

Meantime,  what  had  become  of  the  poor 
lad,  and  how  had  he  fared  since  waking  also 
from  a  troubled  dream  ?  He  had  left  the 
baker's  shop,  and  gone  out,  lonely,  tired,  and 
half  despairing,  yet  ever  urged  on  by  the 
baker's  words,  through  the  desolate  snow- 
bound streets. 

The  morning  had  begun  with  hope,  the 
evening  had  closed  in  with  disappointment  ; 
the  night  air  was  full  of  a  piercing  frost,  and 
his  limbs  were  heavy  from  the  unusual  amount 
of  walking,  and  the  difficulty  he  had  expe- 
rienced in  maintaining  a  firm  footing  on  the 
slippery  pavement. 

He  had  sold  but  the  two  castles  since  early 
in  the  morning,  the  two  castles  bought  from 
him  by  the  lady  in  the  carriage  ;  so  he  could 
not  lift  the  board  from  his  head  and  carry  it 
under  his  arm,  as  was  his  custom  on  his  return 
home  when  all  his  wares  were  disposed  of. 

Added  to  all  this,  there  was  the  uncom- 
fortable thought  that  he  must  pass  the  rest  of 
the  night  in  the  street  ;  for  he  could  not,  even 
were  he  to  turn  now,  reach  Salvi's  house  before 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        41 

daybreak,  and  there  would  be  no  one  abroad 
in  the  lonely  streets  to  show  him  at  every  step 
what  turn  he  must  take.  Neither  would  he 
trust  himself  in  an  unknown  lodging-house ; 
so  still  keeping  the  southernly  direction 
towards  Norwood,  he  pressed  on. 

One  by  one  the  lights  in  the  houses  and 
buildings  he  passed  by  on  his  journey  were 
extinguished  ;  foot-passengers  became  fewer 
and  fewer  ;  the  snow  lay  deep  on  the  roofs 
and  pavements,  till  it  seemed  almost  to  little 
Heinrich  he  was  walking  in  a  white  world  of 
plaster  of  Paris. 

At  last  the  clock  in  the  nearest  church 
struck  twelve  ;  the  streets  were  growing  less 
and  less  entangled,  and  there  were  glimpses 
of  country  fields  covered  with  snow,  and 
phantom  trees  growing  on  a  hill  side.  Just 
that  he  might  hear  the  sound  of  a  human  voice, 
or  with  some  vain  hope  lurking  somewhere  in 
his  breast,  he  stopped  and  cried  out  into  the 
night  air,  "  Castles,  white  castles  for  sale  ! 
good  ladies  and  little  children,  white  castles 
for  sale  !"  And  once,  when  he  saw  a  shadow 


42         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

cast  on  a  blind  in  an  upper  room,  he  stopped 
and  sang  ;  but  the  blind  was  not  drawn  back* 
nor  did  a  face  come  to  the  window,  so  he 
passed  on  more  disheartened  than  ever. 

He  continued  walking  forward  for  a  long 
time  in  a  reverie  of  pain,  watching  the  painful 
reflection  cast  on  the  snow  before  him  by  the 
castles  on  his  head — till  all  at  once  with  a 
start  he  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  paused  while 
his  heart  beat  fast  and  strong.  What  was 
that  white  building  high  up  on  the  hill,  with 
its  turrets  and  oriel  windows,  and  a  steady 
light  burning  in  an  upper  room  ?  Surely  this 
was  the  castle  of  his  dreams,  and  the  home  of 
the  little  girl  he  had  seen  in  the  carriage. 
Heinrich  felt  a  rush  of  hope  at  his  heart,  and 
hurried  on.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to 
tell  why  this  hope  arose  so  strangely  and 
unreasonably  in  his  breast  ;  but  it  ivas  there, 
that  was  all  he  knew,  and  he  would  test  its 
value. 

The  gate,  an  iron  one,  with  a  white  turret 
on  either  side,  was  only  on  the  latch  ;  there 
was  no  lodge,  no  dog  to  bark,  or  anything  to 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        43 

hinder  his  approach  ;  but  the  hill  was — oh  !  so 
steep,  and  the  little  limbs  so  weary. 

"  White  castles  !  ladies  and  little  children, 
buy  my  white  castles  !  white  castles  for  sale  !" 

But  the  building  in  front  of  which  poor 
Heinrich  stood  was  still  and  silent  as  the  mock 
ones  upon  his  head,  and  no  sign  spoke  of  life 
within,  save  the  light  burning  in  the  upper 
window. 

"  White  castles  !  ladies  and  little  children, 
white  castles  for  sale  !" 

Heinrich  kept  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the 
window  above  him,  for  a  figure  had  passed 
across  the  room,  and  paused  for  a  moment  at 
the  window.  It  was  the  figure  of  a  woman, 
tall,  slight,  and  young,  who,  bending  forward, 
shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  looked 
down  upon  him ;  a  thrill  of  a  wild  despair  or 
wilder  hope  passed  over  little  Heinrich  with  a 
shudder,  as  the  figure  disappeared  again  from 
the  window,  and  the  light  was  suddenly 
extinguished. 

Then,  like  the  song  of  the  dying  swan, 
Heinrich  seemed  to  collect  all  his  strength 


44         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

for  one  last  effort.  He  took  the  board  from 
his  head,  and  placed  it  on  the  ground  at  his 
feet  ;  then  taking  a  step  further  back,  so  that 
he  might  see  better  were  the  light  to  reappear, 
he  began  the  old  Swiss  air  which  he  had  sung 
many  months  ago  in  front  of  Wilhelm  the 
plasterer's  chalet. 

High  and  sweet  and  plaintive  it  rose  with 
its  simple  and  touching  melody,  till  at  the 
final  words — 

"I  know  I  shall  see  her  before  I  die, 
For  God  will  hear  the  orphan's  cry  of 

Mother  dear  !  where  art  thou  ?" 

There  was  a  stir — a  stir  so  slight,  it  might  have 
been  the  fall  of  a  snow-laden  leaf  to  the 
ground,  but  Heinrich  heard  it.  The  light 
which  had  disappeared  from  the  upper  window 
shone  now  in  a  room  lower  down  ;  there  was 
a  shadow  on  the  wall,  which  moved  forwards 
toward  the  unshuttered  window. 

Poor  Heinrich  !  could  Wilhelm  have  seen 
him  at  this  moment,  with  his  white  hair  all 
uncovered,  his  white  face  raised,  his  white  lips 
parted,  and  his  eyes  fixed  in  a  trance  of 


HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES.        45 

expectation,  he  would  surely  forthwith  have 
modelled  him  for  a  statue  pure  and  beautiful 
of  "  Faith."  But  this  motionless  silence  was 
not  for  long  ;  the  sash  of  the  window  beneath 
which  he  stood  was  raised,  and  a  voice  out  of 
the  dead  past  crept  out  into  the  still  night 
air,  and  said,  in  the  long-forgotten  accents  of 
his  native  tongue,  "  Heinrich,  my  son,  my 
son  !  if  thou  art  indeed  my  son,  draw  near 
that  I  may  see  thee  !" 

Then  it  seemed  to  little  Heinrich  as  if  the 
White  Castle  stooped  down  to  meet  him,  and 
that  music  came  out  through  the  open  window 
where  he  had  seen  his  mother's  face  ;  and  he 
said  to  himself,  with  a  groan,  "This  is  again 
a  dream,  and  the  awaking  is  near." 

But  it  was  no  dream ;  the  castle  did  not 
bend,  nor  did  music  come  out  through  the 
open  window  ;  but  when  Heinrich  opened  his 
eyes,  his  mother  was  stooping  to  kiss  him, 
and  the  music  of  her  voice  was  in  his  ears. 
#*##*# 

Pierre  Straus  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
When  the  good  news  reached  the  town  that 


46         HEINRICH'S  WHITE  CASTLES. 

Heinrich's  mother  was  found,  a  flame  bright 
enough  to  light  up  the  blocks  of  granite  on 
the  Jura's  side  blazed  in  the  valley;  but  a 
larger  one  still  crimsoned  the  hills,  and  tinted 
even  the  snow  on  the  nearest  peak  with  crim- 
son, when  Heinrich  and  his  mother,  stepping 
down  from  the  diligence,  clasped  with  a  hearty 
welcome  the  honest  hand  of  Wilhelm  the 
plasterer,  and  promised,  amidst  tears  of  gra- 
titude and  smiles  of  unspeakable  happiness, 
that  as  long  as  God  should  spare  him  to  their 
love  and  care  they  would  never  part  from  him 
again. 


THE  NEW-YEAI[  GIFTS : 


DREAMS    AND    REALITY. 


A  TALE  OF  THE  WKTER  OP  1870  IN  PARIS. 


BY 
QTJOIDIDTZV 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

*T  was  New- Year's  day — the  day  of  all  the 
year  in  gay,  laughter-loving  Paris.  The 
streets  were  filled  with  handsome  car- 
riages ;  and  crowds,  gay  and  lively  as 
only  French  people  can  be,  thronged 
the  pavements,  and  clustered  round  the 
shops,  which  were  even  more  than  usually 
attractive  with  their  windows  full  of  beautiful 
objects,  suited  to  every  taste  and  age.  On 
this  day  in  Paris  every  one  gives,  and  receives 
gifts,  of  all  sorts  and  descriptions,  from  dia- 
monds to  bonbons. 

Not  only  do  the  rich  and  great  keep  high 


50  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

festival    to-day — but  the    middle-classes  and 
poor  are  also  making  holiday. 

Groups  of  the  latter,  men  and  boys  in 
blouses,  women  and  little  girls  alike  wearing 
snowy  caps,  are  flocking  into  the  Champs 
Elysee,  and  other  promenades  and  places 
of  public  amusement  ;  every  face  radiant 
with  enjoyment,  and  every  tongue  in 
motion. 

Nothing  is  more  delightful  in  France  than 
to  see  the  hearty,  simple  family  affection  dis- 
played by  "  the  people  "  on  an  occasion  of 
this  sort.  Father,  mother,  and  children  take 
their  pleasure  together,  and  seem  alike  joyous 
and  light-hearted,  laughing  and  exchanging 
good-humored  jokes  and  retorts  with  their  ( 
neighbors,  in  a  way  which  seems  strange  to 
English  eyes,  accustomed  only  to  our  more 
reserved,  gloomy,  and  self-conscious  national 
manners.  In  fact  a  French  crowd  seems  on 
such  occasions  to  make  pleasure  their  busi- 
ness, while  we  usually  reverse  it,  and  make  a 
serious  business  of  our  pleasure. 

It  is,  as  I  have  said,  the  evening  of  New- 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  51 

Year's    day,  and   now  many  of  the   holiday 
makers  are  returning  home. 

Among  these  is  a  woman,  whose  calm, 
gentle  face  is  lighted  up  by  smiles  as  she 
listens  to  the  chatter  of  the  two  children,  who 
have  each  seized  her  by  a  hand,  and  are 
prattling  merrily  over  the  day's  adventures. 
They  have  been  to  St.  Cloud,  and  have  had, 
as  the  little  girl  is  saying,  "  a  truly  charming 
day,"  have  ridden  the  hobby-horses,  seen  a 
conjurer,  listened  to  a  band  of  music,  danced 
under  the  trees,  and  now,  full  of  laughter  and 
happiness,  are  returning  home,  discussing  all 
the  fun  they  have  had. 

"  Has  it  not  been  a  perfect  day,  mother 
'  dear  ?"  and  the  little  girl  who  spoke  pressed 
her  mother's  hand  between  both  her  own. 

The  mother  smiled,  and  looked  down  at 
the  child  whose  figure  was  one  spring  of 
delight,  and  whose  black  eyes  were  literally 
dancing  with  glee. 

"  Yes,  truly,  Clarette,  it  has  been  a  happy 
day,  and  I  am  glad  you  have  enjoyed  it  so 
well.  Has  my  little  Jean  been  happy  too  ?" 


52  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

she  said,  looking  down  at  the  little  boy  trot- 
ting by  her  other  side. 

He  answered  with  a  little  shiver  of  assent, 
by  which  French  children  express  great  de- 
light, and  replied,  in  his  sweet,  shrill  little 
voice  : 

"  Ah  !      Vraiment,  (truly,)  mamma." 

"  That  is  well,"  said  their  mother  ;  "and  so 
you  will  no  longer  grieve,  Clarette,  that  you 
received  no  etrennes  (New- Year's  gifts)  but 
mine,  this  morning." 

Clarette  hung  her  head,  as  she  answered, 
softly : 

"  Ah  !  mamma,  I  was  naughty.  It  was 
because  the  shops  were  so  beautiful,  and  there 
seemed  so  many  nice  things  in  the  world  that 
it  seemed  hard  we  could  have  none  of  them. 
It  was  so  bad  of  me  ;"  and  the  child  looked 
up  at  her  mother  with  tears  in  her  eyes  as 
she  spoke,  "  when  the  good  God  has  given 
us  you  to  take  care  of  us.  We  might  have 
been  like  poor  Pierre." 

"  Poor  Pierre  !"  said  her  mother,  "  where  is 
he  to-day,  I  wonder  ?  I  wish  I  had  thought 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  53 

yesterday  of  asking  him  to  come  with  us,  but 
I  was  sure  he  would  be  at  the  gate  this  morn- 
ing, as  usual.  I  hope  the  poor  boy  is  not  ill." 

By  this  time  they  had  got  out  of  the  crowd, 
and  had  turned  down  a  street,  which  was 
quiet  and  empty,  so  that  talking,  or  at  least 
listening,  was  easier  than  among  the  crowd 
in  the  boulevard  they  had  just  left. 

"  Mother,"  said  Clarette,  suddenly,  "  why 
does  God  give  so  much  more  to  some  people 
than  to  others  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  little  one  ?"  asked 
her  mother. 

"  Why,  see  !  The  little  girl  of  Madame 
La  Marquise  this  morning  got  twenty  pre- 
sents ;  her  bonne  told  me  so.  Then  Marie 
Morette  had  a  new  dress,  and  a  doll,  and  oh  ! 
ever  so  many  things.  Then  Jean  and  I  had 
only  your  present.  I  don't  mean  to  complain, 
mamma  dear,"  and  the  child  looked  up  at  her 
mother  with  eyes  full  of  love,  "  only  to  tell 
you  what  I  mean." 

"  I  know,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother  kindly. 
"  Well  ?" 


54  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

"  Well.!  then  there  is  Pierre.  He  has  had 
no  present,  I  know,  for  his  father  never  gives 
him  anything,  not  even  food.  Now  why  does 
God  make  so  much  difference  ?" 

The  widow  Blampied  waited  a  moment 
before  she  replied.  Too  well  she  knew  how 
often  and  how  bitterly  that  question  had  been 
asked  in  France — the  fearful  scenes  it  had 
given  rise  to,  when  men  goaded  by  suffering, 
or  wild  with  evil  passions  of  hate  and  envy,  had 
taken  the  task  of  "making  the  rough  places 
smooth  "  into  their  own  hands  ;  and  she  almost 
trembled  as  she  heard  the  question  which  had 
roused  so  many  demons  of  disorder  and  cruelty, 
drop  from  the  lips  of  her  little  daughter. 

When  she  spoke,  it  was  to  ask  another 
question  : 

"  Do  you  always  know,  Clarette,  why  I  do 
things — why,  for  instance  I  give  you  one 
thing,  and  Jean  another,  and  sometimes  refuse 
you  altogether  what  you  want,  and  what  I 
could  give  you  ?" 

"  No,  mamma,  but  I  know  you  give  us  what 
is  best  for  us." 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  55 

"I  trust  so,  my  little  one.  You  trust  me 
and  know  what  I  do  is  best.  So  must  we 
trust  God,  and  believe  that  He  who  loves  us 
all  alike,  makes  some  rich,  and  some  poor, 
gives  some  plenty,  others  little.  It  does  not 
come  by  chance,  but  from  God  ;  so  we  know 
that  it  is  best,  though  why,  we  cannot  see. 
Yet  must  we  not  rebel  against  His  will,  but 
strive  to  be  content  and  grateful.  And  we 
.  must  never  think,  my  little  Clarie,  that  what 
others  have  He  takes  from  us.  If  Marie 
Morette  had  had  no  new  dress  or  doll  to-day, 
that  would  not  have  given  them  to  you,  so 
why  should  you  mind  ?" 

"  I  don't  mind  her  having  them,  mamma 
dear,"  said  Clarette,  earnestly,  "  only  I  do  not 
see  why  God  should  give  so  very,  very  much 
to  some,  and  next  to  nothing  to  others." 

"  And  I  cannot  tell  you  why  it  is,  Clarette, 
but  I  know  it  is  for  a  good  reason,  for  the 
good  God  does  all  things  well.  But  think  for 
a  moment,  suppose  every  one  was  as  poor  as 
we  are,  who  would  build  churches,  and  hospi- 
tals, and  give  food  and  clothing  to  the  old 


56  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

and  sick  ?  And  then  again,  if  all  were  rich  as 
Madame  La  Marquise,  who  would  do  the 
work  of  the  world,  and  how  selfish  all  would 
be,  for  none  would  need  help,  so  that  there 
would  be  nothing  to  make  us  think  of  others 
instead  of  ourselves." 

Clarette  agreed  that  there  was  something 
in  this,  but  continued  as  if  still  dissatisfied. 

"  But  why  don't  rich  people  do  more  for 
those  who  are  poor,  mamma  ?  If  I  were  rich 
like  Madame  La  Marquise,  how  I  should  like 
to  make  poor  people  happy,  by  giving  them 
the  things  they  need  so  much  !" 

"And  so  many  rich  people  do,  my  child," 
answered  her  mother,  earnestly.  "  It  is  rich 
people  who  give  money  to  the  good  sisters 
to  enable  them  to  teach  poor  children  like 
you,  and  nurse  the  sick,  and  give  soup  to  the 
poor  old  people  who  cannot  work." 

"Yes,"  said  the  child,  "but  they  keep  a 
great  deal  for  themselves.  They  are  so  selfish. 
Yes,  the  bonne  told  me  that  her  little  lady 
would  not  give  away  one  of  her  twelve  dolls. 
Now  that's  selfish,  isn't  it  ?" 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  57 

"  But  are  not  poor  children  selfish  some- 
times, Clarie  ?"  asked  her  mother,  meaningly. 

Clarette  blushed.  "  Yes,  I  know  ;  but, 
mamma,  we  have  so  little  to  give.  When 
you  give  away  anything  we  all  have  to  go 
without  what  we  really  want.  It  is  not  so 
with  the  rich  ?" 

"  We  cannot  tell  that,  my  child,"  answered 
Madame  Blampied.  "  Pierre,  perhaps,  thinks 
we  are  able  to  give  without  inconvenience  to 
ourselves,  because  we  have  a  comfortable 
room,  and  better  clothes  and  food  than  he 
has  ;  yet  we  know  how  often  a  little  alms- 
giving makes  us  feel  very  poor,  and  very 
discontented  too,"  she  added,  with  a  smiling 
look  at  her  little  daughter,  who  replied  cheer- 
fully : 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  see  ;  and  perhaps  the  rich 
people  have  more  to  do  with  their  money 
than  we  know  ;  but  oh  !  I  think  it  must  be  so 
nice  to  be  able  to  help  poor  people.  I  don't 
mean  just  to  give  a  sou  or  two,  or  a  bit  of 
bread  to  some  one,  but  to  really  help  poor 
people,  and  make  them  happy. 


58  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

"  Why  should  you  like  it,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Because  it  would  be  so  noble,  so  grand, 
like  the  holy  saints  Sister  Marie  tells  us  of, 
who  gave  everything  they  had  to  God,  and 
the  poor,  and  spent  their  lives  in  doing  good. 
Do  rich  people  ever  do  that  now,  mamma  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear  child  ;  but  we  have 
ourselves  to  think  of,  not  other  people.  If  it 
is  right  to  make  sacrifices,  to  do  great  and 
noble  things,  the  poor  can  and  ought  to  do 
so  as  well  as  the  rich." 

Clarette  opened  wide  her  big  black  eyes. 

"  Then  could  I  ever  do  a  great,  noble  thing, 
mamma — something  like  the  holy  saints  ?" 

"  Perhaps  you  may,  my  child  ;  but  this  I 
know,  that  you  can  always  make  little  sacri- 
fices, little  offerings,  which  will  please  God, 
and  make  you  able  to  do  great  things  if  God 
gives  you  the  opportunity.  Remember  that, 
my  child.  Little  faults  neglected  become 
great  sins,  little  good  deeds  done,  become 
great  actions." 

Clarette  blushed  and  was  silent. 

She  was  very  fond  of  imagining  great  things 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  59 

which  she  would  do  if  she  were  only  grown 
up,  or  rich,  or  had  lived  long  ago  ;  in  fact  if 
she  had  been  anybody  but  poor  little  Clarette 
Blampied  ;  but  the  "little  deeds  of  kindness, 
the  little  words  of  love,"  were  too  often  for- 
gotten, or  neglected,  as  she  herself  knew. 
But  her  wish  to  please  God  and  help  others 
had  really  a  true  root  %in  her  heart,  was  not 
merely  a  passing  desire  ;  so,  as  her  mother 
began  to  talk  to  little  Jean,  who  was  begin- 
ning to  be  tired  and  impatient  of  the  long 
conversation  with  his  sister,  she  thought  to 
herself: 

"  I  will  try  and  remember  about  little 
things,  and  then,  perhaps  God  will  give  me  a 
real  great  thing  to  do  some  day.  Sister 
Marie  told  us  yesterday  we  should  begin  the 
New- Year  with  a  new  resolution,  and  this 
shall  be  mine  :  to  do  all  I  can  to  help  others." 

Presently  her  thoughts  took  another  turn, 
and  she  said  : 

"  If  Pierre  should  be  at  the  gate,  mamma, 
may  he  come  in  to  supper  ?" 

"  That  he  may,"  saii  her  mother,  cordially. 


60  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

"  I  would  willingly  give  the  boy  a  little  whole- 
some pleasure,  and  you  can  give  him  the  little 
cross  we  bought  for  him  to-day." 

"  Do  you  really  think  he  will  like  it  ?"  asked 
the  child,  anxiously.  "  Poor  Pierre  !  he  does 
not  know  much,  but  when  you  told  him  at 
Christmas,  about  the  Holy  Jesus,  and  took 
him  to  mass,  I  am  sure  he  liked  it." 

"  I  hope  he  did,  Clarie,  and  the  little  cross 
will  keep  him  in  mind  of  it,  perhaps  ;  but  see, 
here  we  are  at  home.  Poor  little  Jean,  he  is 
very  tired  ;"  and  the  mother  bent  down  and 
lifted  the  weary  child  in  her  arms.  It  was  a 
strange  place  for  people,  poor  as  they  were, 
to  call  home.  A  tall,  handsome  house,  sepa- 
rated from  the  street  by  a  wide  paved  court, 
into  which  one  entered  through  a  stately 
gateway." 

Surely  too  grand  a  place  for  any  but  rich 
folks  to  live  in,  we  should  think  ;  but  in  Paris 
one  roof  often  covers  many  varieties  of  fortune 
and  degree.  In  that  large  mansion  half  a 
dozen  families  live,  all  differing  from  one 
another  in  wealth  and  rank.  The  first  flat, 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  61 

consisting  of  a  suite  of  splendidly  furnished 
apartments,  belonged  to  the  Marquis  and 
Marquise  de  Quesne,  and  the  second,  scarcely 
less  magnificent,  to  a  rich  widow  lady,  Ma- 
dame Lebrun.  The  third  was  occupied  by  less 
wealthy  people;  the  fourth  was  let  off  to  people 
of  a  lower  rank  of  life — music-teachers,  clerks, 
etc. — while  the  fifth,  or  garret,  consisted  of 
four  large  rooms,  one  of  which  was  the 
Blampied's  home,  and  the  others  were  oc- 
cupied by  people  poor  as  they  were. 

Widow  Blampied  was  a  needlewoman,  and 
supported  by  her  skill  and  industry,  herself 
and  her  two  children,  who  were  at  once  the 
anxiety  and  delight  of  her  life. 

She  now  toiled  up  the  five  long  flights  of 
stairs,  carrying  the  four-year  old  Jean,  while 
Clarette  ran  behind  her — ran,  that  is  to  say, 
up  the  first  two  staircases,  but  after  that  her 
feet  dragged  heavily  ;  the  fatigue  of  a  long 
day's  pleasuring  made  each  flight  seem  twice 
as  long  as  usual — till  by  the  time  she  came  to 
the  last  landing  it  seemed  as  if  she  had 
dropped  all  her  brightness  by  the  way.  But, 


62  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

a  second  afterwards,  her  smiles  came  back  and 
fatigue  was  forgotten,  for  the  door  opposite 
their  own  opened,  and  a  boy,  or  rather  youth 
of  about  sixteen,  came  towards  them,  holding 
out  a  basket  to  Clarette,  and  saying,  with  shy 
abruptness : 

"  There,  little  one,  that  is  for  you." 

"Oh, /Pierre  !"  and  the  little  girl  sprang  to 
his  side.  "  Where  have  you  been  all  day  ? 
We  have  been  to  St.  Cloud,  and  wartted  you 
to  come  with  us  so  much  !" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Pierre,"  said  Madame  Blam- 
pied  kindly.  "  We  wished  to  spend  our  New- 
Year's  day  with  you  ;  but  come  in  now,  and 
have  supper  with  us." 

The  boy  blushed  with  mingled  shyness  and 
pleasure,  but  after  a  glance  at  the  neat  room, 
and  the  clean  holiday  dresses  of  his  friends, 
and  then  at  his  own  torn,  ragged  clothes,  he 
shook  his  head,  and  turned  away,  saying  : 

"  Ah  !  no,  Madame,  it  is  too  good.  I  can- 
not, but  thank  you  all  the  same  for  thinking 
of  poor  Pierre." 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  indeed,"  said  Clarette, 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  63 

taking  one  of  his  large,  hard  hands  between 
her  two  little  soft  ones  and  pulling  him  to- 
wards the  door  ;  "you  must  come,  for  I  have 
something  for  you,  and  we  want  to  tell  you 
what  we  did  to-day." 

Thus  urged,  Pierre  entered  their  room,  and 
when  she  had  thus  gained  her  point,  Clarette 
gave  way  to  her  curiosity  as  to  what  was  in 
the  basket  which  she  held  on  her  arm  ;  and 
summoned  Jean  to  help  her  unfasten  it.  It 
was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  two  children 
standing  by  the  chair  on  which  the  basket 
had  been  placed,  and  with  flushed,  eager  faces, 
and  fingers  that  trembled  with  excitement, 
untying  the  stout  twine  which  fastened  the 
cover  tightly  down. 

"  It  moves,  it  moves  !"  cried  Jean,  ecstati- 
cally ;  "  it  is  something  alive,  Clarie  !"  and 
he  started  back,  half  frightened. 

But  the  bra^e  Clarette,  with  her  hopes  of 
a  realized  dream  rising  higher  and  higher, 
untied  the  last  knot,  lifted  the  cover,  and  saw 
— Oh,  joy  of  joys,  her  very  heart's  desire,  a 
gray  kitten,  which  rose  from  its  soft  bed  oi 


64  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

hay,  hunching  up  its  back  with  a  yawn,  and 
with  a  gentle  mew  fixed  its  round  blue  eyes 
on  Clarette's  delighted  face. 

"  Oh  you  darling  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  mother 
— Jean — it  is  a  kitten,  a  gray  kitten,  the  very 
thing  I  have  wanted  for  so  long  !  Oh  !  Pierre, 
Pierre,  how  good,  how  kind  of  you  !"  And 
almost  frantic  with  delight,  she  caught  up  the 
soft  gray  ball  of  fur,  and  covered  it  with 
kisses. 

It  was,  indeed,  what  she  had  been  desiring 
for  months — a  kitten  of  her  very  own, — a  gray 
one  with  white  shirt-front  and  stockings,  and 
here  was  the  perfect  realization  of  her  ideal 
puss.  Her  rapture  at  its  appearance,  and  her 
gratitude  to  Pierre  were  so  great,  that  the 
kitten  was  in  danger  of  being  smothered  with 
the  caresses  showered  upon  it,  as  an  outlet  for 
her  excitement  ;  while  little  Jean,  scarcely 
less  delighted,  stroked  and  kissed  its  stiff, 
little  gray  tail,  which  was  the  only  part  of 
which  he  could  obtain  possession. 

At  length,  when  pussy,  after  many  plaintive 
mews,  had  been  driven  to  use  the  needle-like 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  65 

claws  hidden  in  her  soft  paws,  she  was  re- 
leased to  show  off  her  beauties  as  she  gam- 
bolled about  the  room  and  drank  the  milk 
which  Madame  Blampied  had  already  poured 
out  for  her. 

Then  Clarette  turned  to  Pierre  and  inquired 
eagerly  where  he  had  got  the  "  little  treasure," 
"  the  darling,"  and  after  much  questioning 
discovered  he  had  spent  his  holiday  in  a  long 
expedition  in  search  of  an  old  woman  who 
lived  some  distance  out  of  Paris,  whom  he 
had  some  acquaintance  with,  and  who  he  had 
heard  possessed  some  cats  of  a  remarkably 
fine  breed. 

From  her  he  obtained  this  kitten,  at  what 
cost  he  did  not  tell  Clarette,  at  the  price 
of  so  large  a  part  of  his  little  savings  that  the 
new  blouse  in  which  he  had  hoped  Jo  appear 
at  church  the  next  Sunday,  would  be  an  im- 
possibility for  some  weeks  longer. 

But  he  did  not  give  a  thought  of  regret  to 
that,  nor  to  his  long  day's  walk,  as  he  watched 
Clarette's  unbounded  delight.  Madame 
Blampied  was  hardly  less  grateful  than  her 


66  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

little  daughter  ;  for,  mother-like,  a  kindness 
to  her  child  was  more  acceptable  than  any 
service  rendered  to  herself;  and  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  handed  Pierre  his 
coffee,  saying : 

"  May  the  good  God  bless  those  who  care 
for  the  fatherless  little  ones  !  Thou  hast  a 
good  heart,  Pierre." 

"  It  is  you  who  have  been  good,"  cried  the 
boy,  impulsively.  "  What  have  I  done  ?  but 
you — who,  but  you  ever  says  a  kind  word  to 
me  !"  and  with  national  demonstrativeness, 
the  boy  seized  the  good  woman's  hand  and 
pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense !"  said  Madame, 
drawing  it  away,  and  recovering  her  usual 
calm  self-composure,  as  she  patted  him  on  the 
shoulder.  "  There,  there  !  drink  thy  coffee  ; 
we  will  say  no  more  about  it,  but  as  friends 
should,  agree  to  take  kindness  from  each 
other.  Come,  Clarette,  Jean,  leave  the 
kitten,  and  eat  your  suppers." 

They  obeyed  their  mother's  summons  to  the 
table  ;  but  pussy  was  Clarctte's  supper  that 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  67 

night ;  she  had  no  ears  or  eyes  for  anything- 
else,  till  the  merry  little  thing  had  curled 
itself  up  again  in  its  basket,  and  fallen  asleep, 
and  then  its  mistress  had  leisure  to  pour  out 
the  tale  of  her  holiday  doings  into  Pierre's 
attentive  ear. 

Pierre  was  one  of  the  street  boys  of  Paris, 
gamins  as  they  are  called  ;  wild,  untaught, 
mischievous,  and  alas!  wicked  little  creatures, 
who  without  care,  love,  education  or  restraint, 
pass  their  days,  and  often  their  nights  in  the 
streets,  picking  up  a  scanty  livelihood  in 
various  ways,  more  or  less  hottest ;  and  usually 
growing  out  of  a  heedless,  wild,  and  reckless 
childhood,  into  a  godless,  idle,  and  desperate 
manhood.  They  are  either  without  parents, 
or  have  forsaken,  or  been  forsaken  by  them ; 
each  one  looks  after  himself,  and  becomes 
precocious  in  every  evil  thing,  hardened  and 
deadened  to  all  that  is  good,  at  an  age  when 
the  mind  should  be  still  innocent  and  ignorant 
of  the  wickedness  of  the  world. 

This  was  the  brotherhood  to  which  Pierre 
belonged  ;  and  yet  he  was  not  quite  so  bad  as 


68  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

this.  He  had  had  a  good  mother  who  had 
lived  till  he  was  nine  years  old,  and  whose 
teaching  and  example  still  had  some  place  in 
his  memory,  and  aided  by  the  many  prayers, 
which  had  been  offered  up  by  her  for  her  little 
son,  kept  him  from  much  that  would  have 
been  his  ruin,  amid  strong  temptation,  and 
with  no  earthly  aid  to  guide  him  right. 

His  father,  whose  wickedness  and  cruelty 
had  hastened,  if  not  caused  his  mother's 
death,  cared  for  no  one  but  himself,  and 
turned  his  son  into  the  streets  to  earn  or 
steal,  he  cared  not  which,  so  that  he  himself 
need  not  work  in  order  to  gratify  his  love  of 
drink  ;  and  as  the  poor  child  too  often  returned 
empty  handed,  he  was  treated  with  such 
cruelty,  that  unable  to  bear  it,  he  at  last  ran 
away.  From  that  day  he  had  lived  entirely 
in  the  streets,  feeling  quite  alone  in  the  world, 
and  until  the  past  few  months  without  a  soul 
to  take  a  kindly  interest  in  him.  In  some 
way  he  then  became  known  to  the  old  porter, 
who  frequently  gave  him  employment,  in  the 
way  of  running  messages,  and  such  like  little 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  69 

jobs,  and  in  this  way  Madame  Blampied  began 
to  take  notice  of  him  ;  and  something  in  his 
expression  reminding  her  of  a  little  brother, 
long  since  dead,  she  almost  unconsciously 
took  a  strong  interest  in  the  lad,  and  little 
by  little  had  won  his  friendship,  so  that  he 
told  her  all  the  circumstances  of  his  life  which 
I  have  just  narrated.  Her  kindness,  shown  in 
various  little  ways,  and  her  sympathy  with 
his  lonely  life,  called  forth  the  most  intense 
gratitude  in  a  heart  which,  stained  as  it  was, 
had  been  originally  created  sensitive  to  every 
tender  feeling. 

Hitherto  their  intercourse  had  been  limited 
to  meetings  in  the  court-yard,  or  short  walks 
together  ;  never  before  had  Pierre  spent  an 
evening  with  them  ;  and  the  novelty  of  a 
happy  family-circle,  the  warmth  and  C9mfort 
of  the  little  home,  made  him  feel  altogether 
different  from  his  usual  self. 

When  just  as  he  was  leaving,  Clarette 
displayed  the  little  metal  cross  she  had 
bought  him,  and  Madame  Blampied  fastened 
it  on  a  piece  of  black  ribbon,  and  begged  him 


70  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  •, 

to  take  it  for  their  sakes,  to  remind  him  as  long 
as  he  lived,  not  only  of  them,  but  of  the  dear 
Saviour  and  his  goodness  to  sinners,  great 
tears  dimmed  the  black  eyes  which  were 
usually  so  keen  and  bright  ;  and  though,  as  he 
took  it  and  hung  it  round  his  neck,  he  could 
find  no  words  in  which  to  express  his  feelings, 
he  vowed  to  himself  that  it  should  be  a  re- 
minder to  him  from  that  time  forward,  of  all  his 
dead  mother's  lessons,  and  his  Redeemer's  love. 

After  he  had  gone,  the  children  were  glad 
to  go  to  bed,  tired  out  with  the  day's  pleasure 
and  excitement ;  but  even  then  Clarette  could 
not  be  parted  from  her  new  plaything,  and 
obtained  her  mother's  leave  to  take  it  to  bed 
with  her,  and  there,  clasped  in  i'ts  mistress' 
fat  little  arms,  pussy  slept  soundly  till  the 
morning  sun  peeped  into  the  room. 

Then  it  struggled  out  of  Clarette's  embrace 
and  awakened  the  little  girl  by  making  dashes 
at  a  stray  curl,  which  had  fallen  over  her 
forehead  from  beneath  her  cap,  provoking  a 
game  of  play  which  lasted  till  it  was  time  to 
get  up. 


CHAPTER  II. 

>ROM  that  time  the  kitten  became  the 
great  pleasure  of  Clarette's  life.  Like 
most  children,  she  was  passionately 
fond  of  animals,  but  living  in  a  town, 
had  had  few  opportunites  for  gratify- 
ing her  affection  for  them,  and  had  never 
possessed  a  creature  of  her  own  before. 
Trcsor,  as  she  called  him,  now  reaped*  the 
benefit  of  this,  for  all  her  pent-up  love  was 
expended  on  him,  and  never  was  a  kitten  so 
tenderly  cared  for,  so  enthusiastically  loved. 
He  certainly  was  a  fascinating  kitten  !  And 
every  week,  as  he  grew  bigger,  he  developed 
new  beauties,  and  good  qualities,  all  of  which 
were  fully  appreciated  by  his  little  mistress, 
who  considered  him  the  very  king  of  cats. 

71 


•J2  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

He  was  of  the  sort  which  I  have  sometimes 
heard  called  French  cats ;  not  that  all  cats  in 
France  are  alike,  or  resemble  him,  but  they 
are  sometimes  found  there,  and  are  very 
different  from  ordinary  cats,  having  some 
likeness  to  the  Persian  breed. 

In  fact,  they  are  the  nobles  of  their  race, 
and  Tresor  was  one  of  the  finest  of  his  kind. 
Very  large,  with  very  thick  fluffy  gray  and 
white  fur,  magnificent  feathery  tail,  and  small, 
round  head,  which,  however,  contained  a  deal 
of  sense — these  were  Tresor's  outward  at- 
tractions, while  his  varied  accomplishments 
and  intelligent  disposition,  still  more  than  his 
beauty,  raised  him  far  above  "  the  common 
herd  "  of  cats. 

He  was  the  most  attached  of  pets,  the  most 
sagacious  puss,  an  unequalled  mouser,  and 
oh  !  rare  virtue,  most  honest  of  animals  ;  while, 
above  all  other  good  qualities  in  Clarette's 
eyes,  he  returned  her  affection  with  a  fidelity 
rare  in  his  race.  He  would  follow  her  about 
like  a  dog,  would  sit  on  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
and  watch  for  her,  and  as  her  light  step  was 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  73 

heard,  would  rush  to  meet  her  with  a  peculiar 
cry  of  delight,  and  then  purr  with  satisfac- 
tion as  he  rubbed  himself  against  her  ankles 
and  rolled  on  the  floor  before  her. 

He  became  accomplished,  too  ;  could  jump 
over  a  stick  held  high  above  him,  could  stand 
on  his  hind  legs  and  beg,  an  accomplishment 
which  he  copied  from  the  porter's  dog,  and 
with  which  he  astonished  and  delighted  his 
mistress. 

By  Easter  Tresor  had  grown  almost  to  his 
full  size — had  found  a  niche  in  the  affections 
of  all  the  family,  and  had  become  a  favorite 
of  many  of  the  other  inhabitants  of  the  house  ; 
but  there  were  two  notable  exceptions — the 
people  who  lived  in  the  opposite  room  to  the 
Blampieds. 

These  were  a  woman  and  her  son.  She  was 
a  hard,  violent  woman,  dreaded  by  every 
one  for  her  fits  of  rage  and  unsparing  use  of 
abusive  language  ;  and  being  besides  of  an 
unfriendly  churlish  humor,  she  made  no  friends, 
and  seemed  to  go  through  the  world  at 
enmity  with  all  around  her.  To  one  person 


74  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

only  was  she  kind  and  gentle,  and  that  was 
to  her  boy,  on  him  she  lavished  every  ten- 
derness and  indulgence,  petting  and  spoiling 
him  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  became  as 
much  disliked  as  herself,  so  rude,  and  disa- 
greeable he  grew.  But  she  saw  no  fault  in 
him  ;  and  did  any  one  ever  resent  his  mis- 
chievous tricks,  or  bad  behavior,  she  at- 
tacked them  with  such  violence,  that  for 
peace  sake,  people,  put  up  with  his  conduct 
rather  than  draw  down  a  storm  by  complaints 
of  it. 

This  boy  had  a  bird — a  canary  of  whom  he 
was  very  fond,  and  whose  cage  was  hung  in 
the  window  opposite  the  door. 

Now,  one  unlucky  day,  this  door  was  left 
open  when  the  widow  and  her  son  were  out, 
and  during  their  absence  Trosor  happening  to 
be  in  the  passage,  saw  the  bird,  which  to  his 
ideas  represented  a  delicate  meal,  hopping 
about  in  the  cage,  and  went  stealthily  to- 
wards the  window,  looking  out  to  see  how 
he  could  get  possession  of  it.  The  cage  was 
hung  pretty  high,  so  it  was  no  easy  matter  to 


,•  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  75 

get  to  it ;  but  after  sundry  ineffectual  jumps 
Tresor  managed  to  reach  it  with  his  fore  feet, 
and  there  hung,  while  the  poor  canary,  fright- 
ened out  of  its  wits,  flew  wildly  from  side  to 
side.  Tresor's  great  weight  snapped  the 
string  by  which  the  cage  hung,  and  down  it 
and  the  cat  fell  together  upon  the  floor,  and 
in  a  few  more  seconds  the  poor  little  bird 
would  have  chirped  its  last,  had  not  its 
owners  at  that  instant  appeared,  and  then 
the  tables  were  turned  with  a  vengeance. 

Furious  with  anger,  the  boy  seized  Tresor, 
thumped  him  without  mercy,  unheeding  his 
piteous  mews,  which,  however,  soon  brought 
Clarette  to  the  rescue  ;  but  deaf  to  her  en- 
treaties and  apologies,  the  woman  threatened 
to  throw  the  cat  into  a  pail  of  hot  water 
which  stood  near  ;  and,  perhaps,  might  have 
carried  out  her  cruel  threat,  had  not  Tresor, 
by  an  unsparing  use  of  his  long  claws,  com- 
pelled the  boy  to  release  him,  and  then  with 
wild  eyes  and  puffed  out  tail  rushed  into  the 
Blampieds'  room  as  fast  as  his  legs  could 
carry  him.  From  that  time  these  people 


76  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  t 

hated  the  "gray  beast"  as  they  called  him, 
and  though  Tresor  never  again  attempted  to 
cross  their  threshold,  they  never  caught  sight 
of  him  in  the  passage  or  court-yard  without 
attempting  to  strike  or  frighten  him.  This 
was  the  only  alloy  in  Clarette's  happiness 
during  the  months  which  followed,  the  happi- 
est ones,  she  thought,  in  all  her  life.  Each 
day  passed  in  a  quiet  ripple  of  duties  and 
pleasures,  with  nothing  to  disturb  them.  No 
care  for  the  future,  content  with  the  present, 
no  life  could  be  happier. 

True,  Madame  Blampied  had  known  too 
much  sorrow  ever  to  be  glad  at  heart,  but 
she  had  put  her  life  into  God's  hands ;  she 
believed  in  her  heart  that  He  does  all  things 
well,  and  took  with  gratitude  the  little  daily 
pleasures  of  her  lot,  thanked  Him  for  her 
children,  and  left  their  future  in  His  fatherly 
hands.  If,  at  times,  anxious  thoughts  op- 
pressed her  at  the  knowledge  of  her  own 
uncertain  life,  and  the  helplessness  of "  her 
little  ones,  should  sickness  or  death  befal  her, 
a  quiet  half  hour  in  the  beautiful  old  church 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  77 

near,  or  a  visit  to  the  good  Sister  of  St. 
Genevieve,  to  whose  convent  Marie  went 
every  day  for  schooling,  and  who  were  kind 
friends  to  all  the  poor,  sorrowful,  sick  or 
anxious,  who  applied  to  them  for  help  or 
sympathy,  would  bring  back  her  usual  quiet 
cheerfulness. 

Clarette  was  a  great  comfort  to  her,  as  you 
will  see,  when  I  tell  you  how  their  days  were 
spent. 

They  got  up  very  early,  and  after  they  had 
had  breakfast,  Madame  Blampied  tidied  the 
room,  and  went  away  to  her  daily  work  at  a 
great  needle-work  establishment,  leaving 
Clarette  to  take  care  of  Jean  till  school-time. 
Then  the  good  sister,  having  first  kissed  her 
cat,  took  her  little  brother  by  the  hand,  and 
led  him  carefully  down  the  long  flights  of 
stairs,  and  along  the  street  till  they  came  to 
a  house  where  was  what  they  called,  "  the 
creche,"  that  is,  where  was  a  room  which*  the 
kind  Sisters  of  St.  Genevieve  hired,  and  where 
they  took  charge  of  little  children  whose 
mothers  were  obliged  to  work  away  from 


78  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  ;i 

home.  Such  places  are  a  great  boon  for  the 
poor,  who,  for  a  trifling  payment,  can  leave 
their  little  ones  there,  knowing  they  will  be 
fed  and  cared  for  till  the  evening.  There, 
among  a  number  of  children,  from  babies  up 
to  little  five  and  six-years-old,  Jean  remained, 
while  Clarette  went  on  to  the  Convent-school, 
In  the  middle  of  the  day  she  ran  home  to 
warm  her  soup,  feed  and  play  for  a  few 
moments  with  Tresor,  and  then  back  again  to 
school.  After  lessons  were  over  for  the  day, 
she  called  at  the  creche  for  Jean,  and  they 
would  either  play  in  the  court-yard,  or  go 
quietly  home,  till  it  was  time  for  their  mother 
to  leave  the  shop  where  she  worked.  Then 
they  would  go  to  meet  her,  often  turning  into 
one  of  the  many  churches  which  they  passed, 
if  they  were  a  little  too  early,  for  in  Paris  the 
churches  are  open  all  the  time,  either  for 
service,  or  that  people  may  go  in  and  say  a 
prayer  there  quietly  by  themselves. 

Clarette  had  been  well  taught,  and  she  was 
naturally  a  thoughtful  child,  so  that  it  was  a 
real  pleasure  to  her  to  find  her  way  into  a 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  79 

church,  for  as  she  told  her  mother,  she  always 
felt  when  she  was  there  as  if  she  were  nearer 
Jesus.  Though  we  know  we  may  be  always 
near  Him  wherever  we  are,  it  certainly  is 
easier  to  lift  one's  heart  to  heaven  in  God's 
own  house,  if  we  enter  it  with  reverence  and 
love. 

After  she  had  said  her  prayer,  she  and 
Jean  would  sometimes  go  round  to  look  at 
the  beautiful  bright  windows,  where  were 
figures  of  saints  and  angels,  and  pictures  of 
Bible-stories,  and  the  holy  deeds  of  good  men 
and  women  long  ago. 

Some  of  these  stories  the  Sisters  had  told 
Clarette,  and  she  loved  to  think  of  them  and 
tell  them  to  Jean  as  they  walked  along  the 
streets  in  the  pleasant  summer  evenings.  Par- 
ticularly she  loved  the  story  of  St.  Geneveive 
the  patron  saint  of  Paris,  for  as  she  heard  of 
the  wondrous  works,  and  the  saintly  life  of 
one  who  was  only  a  poor  peasant  girl,  she 
felt  encouraged  to  hope  that  she  too  might 
one  day  do  something  great  and  noble  for 
God  and  her  fellow-creatures.  On  Sundays 


8o  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

she  often  thought  of  such  things,  as,  after 
having  been  to  mass,  and  eating  their  simple 
dinner,  she  and  her  mother  and  Jean  spent 
the  afternoon  in  the  Champs  Elysee,  or  some 
such  pleasant  place.  Pierre  often  accompa- 
nied them,  and  for  him  Clarette  had  a  strong 
affection,  founded  in  the  gratitude  she  felt  for 
his  gift  of  Tresor  ;  so  when  the  four  were  all 
together,  walking  in  the  shady  walks,  listening 
to  the  gay  strains  of  the  band,  or  sitting 
quietly  chatting,  Clarette's  measure  of  happi- 
ness was  so  full  that  she  often  longed  to  do 
something  to  show  the  Giver  of  it  how  grate- 
ful she  was. 

And  those  Sundays  were  happy  days  for 
Pierre  also.  New- Year's  day  had  begun  a 
new  era  for  him.  From  that  time  he  felt  that 
he  had  friends  interested  in  his  welfare,  and 
this  was  an  encouragement  to  struggle  against 
the  evil  influences  around  him.  Often  in  the 
months  that  followed  did  the  little  cross 
which  lay  hidden  under  his  blue  blouse,  sug- 
gest thoughts  which  helped  him  to  resist  the 
wrong  doings  to  which  his  companions,  or  the 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  81 

grim  tempter  Hunger  persuaded  him.  He 
went  oftener  to  church,  thought  more  of  the 
holy  lessons  which  his  mother  had  taught 
him,  both  by  precept  and  example,  and  gra- 
dually began  to  desire  some  better,  steadier 
way  of  earning  his  living,  than  his  present 
hand-to-mouth  existence. 

He  sometimes  talked  of  these  things  to 
Clarette,  for  like  many  shy  people  he  found  it 
easier  to  be  unreserved  with  a  child  than  with 
a  grown  person,  and  he  talked  to  her  of  his 
wishes  and  feelings  in  a  way  which  would 
have  been  impossible  to  any  one  else. 

Clarette  felt  much  honored  by  this  confi- 
dence, and  perhaps  by  her  childish  faith  in  his 
sincerity  and  power  of  carrying  out  his  good 
resolutions,  and  her  simple  trust  in  the  God 
who  cares  for  all,  was  of  as  much  use  to  him  as  a 
more  experienced  confidante  would  have  been. 
Sometimes,  too,  when  after  they  had  returned 
from  their  walk,  or  evening  service,  while  the 
mother  was  getting  supper  ready,  they  sat  by 
the  window-seat  on  which  Tresor  always  lay, 
petting  him,  or  looking  out  at  the  western 


82  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

sky,  Clarette  would  talk  to  him  of  her  favor- 
ite theme,  the  good  and  marvellous  deeds  of 
noble  men  and  women,  and  of  her  anxiety  to 
do  some  "  golden  deed "  that  should  be 
really  great  and  glorious. 

Sometimes  the  boy  felt  inclined  to  smile  at 
the  childish  enthusiasm,  as  she  narrated  to 
him  some  old  legend  or  stirring  tale  of  self- 
sacrifice  and  devotion,  but  gradually  his  spirit 
caught  somewhat  of  the  glow  of  her  admira- 
tion for  all  that  was  "  pure,  lovely,  and  of 
good  report,"  and  he  too  found  it  in  his  heart 
to  wish  that,  like  the  crusaders  of  old,  he  could 
fight  for  the  truth,  and  if  needs  be  die  for  it. 

And  how  fared  Clarette's  New- Year  resolve 
all  this  time  ?  Like  the  good  resolutions  of 
most  of  us,  I  fear,  her  aspirations  did  not  always 
take  effect  on  her  deeds  ;  the  great  future 
for  which  she  hoped,  dazzled  her  mental 
vision,  so  that  the  little  present  opportunities 
were  unseen  or  neglected. 

Still  it  was  not  all  failure :  the  good  resolu- 
tion bore  some  fruit,  and  perhaps  her  very 
failures  and  inconsistencies  worked  for  good 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  83 

to  her,  as  they  showed  her  how  weak  our 
nature  is,  how  impossible  it  is  for  us  by  our- 
selves to  do  any  good  thing,  and  taught  her 
how  much  easier  it  is  to  plan  great  tilings 
than  to  perform  little  ones,  how  much  harder  to 
give  up  one's  own  way  in  every-day  matters 
than  to  build  magnificent  castles  in  the  air  of 
fnture  sacrifices. 

To  be  patient  when  Jean  was  unreasonable, 
to  leave  off  playing  with  Tresor  when  she 
knew  she  should  be  at  work,  to  watch  when 
her  mother  was  tired,  and  so  not  worry  her 
by  inconvenient  questions  or  proposals,  and  in 
such  small  matters,  Clarette  found  quite  enough 
exercise  for  her  resolution,  and,  as  I  have  said, 
sometimes  conquered,  and  often  was  overcome 
by  her  temptations.  Sometimes  she  felt  very 
despairing  when  she  thought  of  her  frequent 
failures  ;  but  her  mother,  who,  without  saying 
anything  to  her  child  about  it,  had  closely 
watched  her  efforts,  successes,  and  defeats, 
thanked  God  with  heartfelt  gratitude,  as  she 
saw  that  her  child  was  slowly  learning  that  les- 
son which  all  who  would  follow  Jesus  must  learn. 


CHAPTER    III. 

days  and  weeks  passed  smoothly 
and  happily  away,  and  summer  in  all 
its  glory  had  arrived,  when  suddenly 
the  thunder-cloud  that  had  been  slowly 
gathering  unnoticed  by  all  but  the 
most  observant,  burst  over  Europe,  and  bright 
days  passed  away  from  Paris — for  how  long, 
who  can  say  ? 

War  was  declared  ;  that  war  which  during 
the  last  months  of  1870  made  the  whole  world 
aghast  with  horror  and  grief,  turned  the  fair 
land  of  France  into  desolation,  and  made  of 
the  queen  of  cities,  a  spectacle  of  misery,  hu- 
miliation, and  suffering.  Seldom  was  a  war 
entered  on  with  such  mad  rashness  and 
criminal  folly ;  never  has  a  nation  been  so 
(84) 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  85 

punished  by  the  event  of  a  war  and  its  conse- 
quences. Where  these  will  end  it  is  too  soon 
now  to  say.  The  heart  sickens  at  the  thought 
of  the  thousands  and  thousands  of  innocent 
victims  to  ambition  and  lawlessness,  who  are 
even  now  suffering  all  that  human  nature  can 
suffer  both  in  mind  and  body.  Few  even  of  those 
who  most  truly  regretted  the  declaration  of 
war,  could  foresee  the  misery  into  which  Paris 
was  to  be  plunged  ;  but  before  many  days  had 
passed  the  land  was  full  of  sorrow  and  wailing 
for  those  who,  happier  than  many  who  were 
then  spared,  fell  in  hundreds  and  thousands 
on  the  first  battle-fields,  leaving  mothers, 
widows,  and  children  desolate  and  unprotect- 
ed. How  many  homes  were  destroyed,  how 
many  hearts  broken,  how  great  the  sum  of 
suffering  in  Paris  alone,  what  mind  can  con- 
ceive, or  pen  describe  ! 

As  the  fancy  dwells  on  the  ghastly  heaps 
that  lay  on  those  fields  of  blood,  one's  very 
thoughts  shrink  back  in  horror  from  the  vista 
of  misery  which  opens  before  one.  The  air, 
one  may  truly  say,  seems  full  of  the  sighs,  not 


86  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

only  of  the  dying,  but  of  those  left  sorrowing 
and  alone  ;  and  as  day  by  day  the  weight  of 
misery  was  increased,  there  were  few  in  either 
France  or  Germany  who  were  not  either 
plunged  in  grief,  or  trembling  with  sickening 
anxiety. 

Darker  and  darker  became  the  days  in 
Paris  ;  many  of  the  gay  and  rich  fled  from  the 
city,  once  the  scene  of  splendid  spectacles, 
mirthful  sport,  and  frivolous  gayety,  now  be- 
come a  place  of  trembling  hopes,  and  despair- 
ing anxiety,  that  must  at  length  give  place  to 
utter  despair,  mad  recklessness,  and  the  very 
lowest  depths  of  woe. 

The  siege  began,  and  at  first  hope  and 
determination  sustained  the  courage  of  all  ; 
the  Parisians  went  about  their  avocations  as 
usual,  and  tried  to  cheat  each  other  and  them- 
selves into  a  certainty  that  all  would  yet  be 
well.  With  the  boastful  vanity  that  charac- 
terizes them,  and  with  the  nobler  feelings  of 
patriotism,  and  belief  in  the  power  of  their 
own  arms,  they  refused  to  suppose  their  strong 
and  beautiful  city  could  be  brought  to  crouch 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  87 

helpless  and  humiliated  at  the  feet  of  the 
conqueror.  Buoyed  up  by  self-confidence, 
ignorant  of  the  horrors  contained  in  the  word 
siege,  at  first  there  were  few  drooping  hearts, 
few  desponding  faces  ;  but  as  day  after  day 
went  by,  and  the  strong  foe  outside  the  walls 
drew  his  lines  closer  and  firmer  round  the 
city,  as  it  became  evident  no  supplies  could 
be  brought  into  the  city,  and  that  provisions 
were  rapidly  becoming  scarcer,  all  began  to 
see  but  too  plainly  the  grim  spectres  of 
Famine  and  Disease, — the  enemies  inside  the 
town,  which  were  more  terrible  than  the 
human  enemies  without. 

Disease  now  leaped  into  their  midst,  select- 
ing the  weak  and  the  children  for  his  first 
victims,  and  the  town  was  filled  with  sorrow- 
ing mothers,  weeping  over  their  little  ones — 
the  grief  at  losing  those  precious  lives 
aggravated  by  their  inability  to  give  them 
that  nourishment  which  would  have  saved 
them.  Famine,  too,  now  showed  its  ghastly 
form  in  all  its  horrors  ;  dearer  and  dearer  be- 
came food,  till  only  the  rich  could  buy  any- 


88  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

thing  that  was  good  and  nourishing ;  the 
government  rations  became  smaller,  faces 
grew  thin  and  pinched,  and  as  the  cold 
weather  came  on,  the  suffering  increased.  It 
would  be  impossible  for  me  to  attempt  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  woe  and  want  which  filled  the 
city.  I  can  but  attempt  to  relate  how  it 
affected  the  little  family  of  the  Blampieds. 

In  one  respect  they  were  more  fortunate 
than  most  of  their  neighbors.  They  had  no 
male  relatives,  and  so  were  spared  the  keen 
anxiety,  or  the  terrible  blow  of  certainty, 
which  was  the  portion  of  all  who  then  had 
sons,  husbands,  or  brothers, — lor  all  who  could 
bear  arms  must  take  their  part  in  the  defence 
of  their  country. 

Among  other  shops  which  were  obliged  to 
be  closed  at  this  time,  was  the  establishment 
at  which  Madame  Blampied  worked.  She 
was  therefore  left  destitute,  on  the  evening 
when  the  last  wages  were  paid.  The  poor 
woman,  distracted  by  anxious  thoughts  and 
fears  for  her  children,  almost  mechanically 
turned  into  the  church  nearest  her  home,  and 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  89 

falling  on  her  knees,  in  an  agony  of  prayer 
too  intense  for  words,  remained  fora  long  time 
in  a  sort  of  stupor  of  grief.  Gradually,  as  her 
heart  lifted  itself  up  in  prayer,  she  became 
calmer  ;  she  raised  her  eyes  to  the  altar  before 
which  she  knelt,  and  saw  the  last  beams  of 
sunlight  falling  on  the  face  of  the  Holy  Child 
pictured  on  the  wall  above  it.  The  sweet 
radiance  of  the  beautiful  face  seemed  to  calm 
and  still  her  restless  fears,  and  the  outstretched 
arms  of  Jesus  brought  to  mind  the  soothing 
words,  "  Come  unto  me,"  "  Cast  all  your  care 
upon  me,"  with  which  she  had  so  often  before 
lulled  anxieties  and  faithless  fears.  No 
danger,  no  need,  was  too  great  for  His  help  ; 
and  trusting  in  Him,  she  might  be  sure  all 
would  be  well. 

As  she  rose  from  her  knees,  she  breathed  a 
silent  thanksgiving  that  her  husband  had 
gone  to  his  rest,  so  she  was  spared  the  terrible 
anxiety  which  so  many  were  now  suffering. 

Among  the  first  who  had  volunteered  was 
Pierre,  who  now  felt  as  if  a  way  had  been 
open  to  him  to  escape  from  a  life  daily  be- 


cp  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

coming  more  distasteful  to  him  ;  and  his  young 
imagination  conjured  up  visions  of  glory  and 
honor  that  he  might  win,  brave  and  heroic 
actions  he  might  perform. 

He  had  been  in  uniform  now  some  little 
time,  and  felt  every  inch  a  soldier,  and  so 
Madame  Blampied  thought  he  looked,  as  she 
met  him  on  her  way  home.  It  was  sad, 
though,  to  see  such  a  youthful  face  under  the 
soldiers  kepi,  but  alas  !  people  had  got  used 
to  that  sight,  for  too  large  a  proportion  of  the 
whole  army  was  composed  of  half-grown  lads. 
As  Pierre  walked  home  with  her,  Madame 
Blampied  told  him  her  anxieties,  which  he 
lightened  as  much  as  he  could,  by  saying  : 

"  Never  fear,  mother  !"  (for  so  Pierre  now 
always  called  her).  "  The  good  God  will  not 
let  the  children  starve,  and  as  long  as  I  have 
a  crust  they  shall  share  it.  The  Government 
still  feeds  us  well,  indeed,"  he  continued, 
laughing.  "  I  feel  like  a  prince,  with  my  dinner 
coming  to  me  every  day  without  any  care  ot 
mine  ;  so  never  fret,  mother,  Clarie  and  the 
little  Jean  shall  not  starve,  though,  poor 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  91 

children,  they  may  have  to  learn  what  hunger 
is." 

And  Pierre  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The 
autumn  months  went  by,  and  with  great 
economy,  Madame  Blampied  managed  to 
keep  the  grim  wolf  from  the  door.  Day  by 
day,  however,  her  heart  grew  heavier,  as  she 
saw  children  of  friends  and  neighbors  borne 
offto  their  last  resting-places,  sickness  making 
short  work  of  their  little  frames,  enfeebled  by 
bad  and  insufficient  food. 

These  autumn  days  were  sad  ones  for  all  ; 
even  children  caught  the  reflection  of  the 
sorrow  and  despondency  in  their  mothers' 
faces  :  and  although  French  people  can  be 
gay  and  light-hearted  when  we  graver  people 
would  be  oppressed  with  sorrow,  there  was 
little  real  gladness  in  any  heart  in  Paris  during 
that  dismal  time.  But  sometimes  the  chil- 
dren could  forget  fear  and  hunger  in  a  game  of 
play,  and  Clarette  and  Jean  had  many  a  mo- 
ment of  forgetfulness  and  amusement.  And 
Tresor,  what  of  him  ?  He  fared  the  best  in 
those  days  of  want,  for  he  could  and  did  go 


92  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

hunting  for  himself,   and  dined  sumptuously 
when  his  mistress  wanted. 

But  rats  and  mice  were  becoming  food  for 
more  than  cats  now,  and  might  be  seen  pre- 
pared in  various  ways  in  the  windows  of  the 
restaurants.  But  Tresor  could  still  find  food 
enough,  and  was  a  fat,  noble-looking  creature 
still,  and  by  his  pretty  tricks,  and  affection 
for  his  mistress,  did  much  to  cheer  her  during 
those  long  dreary  days  of  want  and  anxiety. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

'T  was  the  beginning  of  another  year,  a 
year  that  was  to  bring  to  Paris  still  bit- 
terer sorrows  than  those  even  of  the  last 
few  months. 

All  was  changed  since  twelve  months 
ago  when  the  city  had  been  radiant  with  gayety, 
prosperous  and  luxurious  ;  feastings,  merry- 
makings, even  household  joys  were  all  now 
things  of  the  past  :  the  present  contained  no- 
thing but  grief,  want,  and  anxiety,  while  be- 
yond in  the  future,  growing  each  day  more 
clear,  were  shadows  of  still  greater  woes. 

As  great  a  change  might  be  seen  between 
the  rosy,  plump,  merry  little  Clarette  of  a  few 
months  ago,  and  the  pale  thin  child  who, 
shaking  with  long-drawn  sobs,  and  floods  of 

(93) 


94  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

tears,  was  sitting  one  day  early  in  January 
on  the  staircase,  with  her  cat  clasped  close  to 
her  poor  little  heart,  that  was  beating  so 
wildly  in  its  distress.  •  All  the  old  merry  days 
were  over ;  the  lovely  Marquise,  the  kind  old 
Count  were  gone — where,  Clarette  did  not 
know,  and  all  who  were  left  in  the  Hotel 
Bongour  looked  sad  and  heavy-hearted,  for  all 
were  oppressed  by  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  hus- 
band, brother,  or  father,  or  else  were  mourn- 
ing their  loss. 

But  it  was  not  now  in  sympathy  with  them 
that  Clarette  wept,  nor  because  her  own 
friend  Pierre  was  far  from  her,  in  one  of  the 
most  distant  forts,  nor  even  because  her  mo- 
ther looked  harassed  and  wan,  and  bread  was 
scarce,  and  she  herself  cold  and  hungry — no, 
for  none  of  these  reasons,  sufficient  though 
they  were,  were  her  tears  falling  so  fast. 

Closer  and  closer  she  hugged  the  cat,  who, 
as  if  wishing  to  comfort  his  mistress,  rubbed 
his  head  against  her  wet  cheeks,  and  made 
soft  purring  sounds  as  he  patted  her  neck 
with  his  velvet  gloves  ;  but  these  marks  of 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  95 

sympathy  seemed  but  to  increase  her  sorrow, 
and  she  continued  to  cry,  till  hearing  foot- 
steps ascending  the  stairs,  Clarette  jumped 
up  and  ran  into  their  room,  hastily  wiping 
her  eyes,  .and  trying  to  look  as  usual. 

She  had  just  placed  Tresor  in  his  favorite 
window-sill,  when  her  mother  entered.  At 
another  time  Madame  Blampied  would  cer- 
tainly have  noticed  the  tear-stained  face  of 
her  little  daughter,  but  just  now  she  was  too 
sick  at  heart  to  observe  anything. 

Dropping  wearily  into  a  chair,  and  catching 
up  her  little  Jean,  she  pressed  him  to  her 
heart,  as  with  tears  and  sobs  she  related  how 
in  coming  back  from  the  Bois  de  Boulonge, 
where  she  had  gone  to  seek  for  a  few  sticks, 
she  had  met  a  mournful  little  group  of  chil- 
dren who  were  carrying  between  them  a  boy, 
no  bigger  than  little  Jean,  who  lay  motionless 
in  their  arms,  with  one  dark  stain  of  blood 
upon  his  white  forehead.  He  was  dead,  killed 
instantaneously  by  a  fragment  of  a  shell  as  he 
was  playing  with  his  companions. 

"  Oh,  the  horrors  of  war  !"  and  the  poor 


96  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

woman  shuddered  at  the  recollection  of  that 
baby  face  lying  cold  and  stiff,  with  the  blood 
stain  on  the  smooth  white  forehead,  as  she 
pressed  her  lips  to  her  own  darling's  warm 
brow,  murmuring,  as  she  did  so  : 

"  And  it  might  have  been  thee,  my  trea- 
sure !  Some  mother  now  is  weeping  over 
that  little  child." 

Clarette  listened  with  eager  interest  as  her 
mother  related  all  she  had  seen  during  her 
walk  ;  the  misery  and  sickening  sights  which 
met  her  at  every  turn,  the  crowds  of  half- 
famished  people  searching  in  gutters  and 
refuse  heaps  for  something  with  which  to  still 
their  gnawing  hunger,  the  many  houses  where 
death  was,  the  cartloads  of  wounded  men  she 
had  seen,  as  they  were  being  carried  to  the 
hospitals. 

"  Merciful  Father  !"  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
finished  her  recital,  "  where  will  it  end  ? 
Must  I  see  my  children  starve  before  my  eyes, 
or  killed  like  that  poor  innocent  ?"  And 
worn  out  with  grief,  want  of  food,  and  anxiety, 
the  poor  woman  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears. 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  97 

Clarette  stood  silently  watching  her  for  a 
few  moments  ;  then  stealing  softly  to  her 
side,  she  laid  her  cold  little  hand  on  her  mo- 
ther's, and  said  gently  : 

"  Do  not  cry,  mother,  dear  mother  !  Jean 
and  I  will  never  again  ask  for  more,  as  we  did 
this  morning." 

"  More  !  my  darling  !"  cried  the  mother,  "  if 
only  I  could  give  you  that;  but  every  day  food 
gets  scarcer.  All  rations  will  soon  have  to 
be  stopped — no  work  can  be  got,  begging  is 
of  no  use.  The  kind  Sisters  told  me  to-day, 
they  would  help  me  as  long  as  they  could,  but 
they  are  half  starved  themselves.  Why  !  the 
very  nobles  are  thankful  for  food  Tresor 
would  once  have- despised.  But,  .bah!"  and 
Madame  Blampied  rose  and  tried  to  smile. 
"  I  am  in  faint-heart,  my  children.  The  good 
God  will  take  care  of  us.  Let  us  go  to  Him 
and  beg  for  patience  and  help.  Though  ten 
thousand  prayers  are  going  up  to  Him,  He 
will  hear  ours  top,  and  answer  them  as  He 
knows  is  best.  We  will  go  to  Vespers  this 
evening  and  pray  with  all  our  hearts  ;  but 
7 


98  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

first  I  must  go  to  see  Mere  Nicot.  How  is 
Albert  now,  Clarette,  do  you  know  ?" 

Clarette  shook  her  head.  "  I  hear  him 
moaning,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  saw  Sister 
Adele  after  she  had  been  to  see  him." 

"  What  did  she  say  ?"  asked  Madame  Blam- 
pied,  anxiously,  "  what  fever  is  it  ?" 

"  She  said  it  was  from  having  had  too  little 
food,"  said  Clarette,  "  and  then  getting  wet  ; 
and  oh  !  mother,"  and  the  tears  rushed  into 
the  child's  eyes,  "  Sister  Adele  says  he  must 
surely  die  if  he  has  no  nourishment,  and  how 
can  he  get  it  ?  All  that  his  mother  has  is  a 
piece  of  dry  crust,  and  that  he  will  not  eat." 

Madame  Blampied  sighed  heavily.  Her 
mother-heart  ached  for  the  desolate  woman 
whose  only  child  was  dying  of  want  before 
her  eyes  :  but  what  could  she  do  ?  All  she 
could  offer  was  her  sympathy  ;  and  thinking 
that  even  that  might  be  some  support  to  the 
unhappy  mother,  she  crossed  the  passage  that 
divided  their  rooms,  and  pushed  open  the 
door,  which,  as  usual  since  Tresor's  adventure 
with  the  canary,  was  tight  shut. 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  99 

But  now  Madame  Nicot  was  too  sad  at  heart 
to  have  noticed  even  Tresor,  had- he  ventured 
over  the  threshold.  Her  tongue  had  lost  its 
bitterness,  and  found  only  soft  gentle  words 
with  which  to  lull  her  child,  who  lay  tossing 
restlessly  from  side  to  side,  calling  wildly  for 
the  food  the  want  of  which  had  thus  brought 
him  to  death's  door. 

Nor  could  Tresor  now  have  done  any  harm, 
for  the  treasured  canary  no  longer  sang  and 
fluttered  in  its  pretty  cage.  It,  like  its  master, 
had  day  by  day  grown  weaker  for  want  of 
food.  A  few  scanty  bread  crumbs,  ill  spared 
from  the  meagre  meals,  had  been  the  bird's 
sole  nourishment  till  a  few  days  before  this. 
When  the  boy  went  to  the  cage,  as  usual, 
to  look  at  his  favorite,  the  cherished  pet  was 
found  lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  cage,  its  little 
throat  panting  and  its  eyes  opening  and 
shutting  with  rapidity. 

Albert  took  it  tenderly  up,  as  the  poor  little 
thing  gave  one  feeble  chirp,  and  stretching  out 
its  feet,  died  in  its  master's  hand.  Hot  tears 
had  dropped  on  its  yellow  feathers  from  Jeanne 


ioo  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

Nicot's  hard  eyes,  as  she  looked  from  it  at  her 
darling,  who,  wan  and  weak,  had  thrown 
himself  on  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  distress. 
More  than  birds  might  die  of  hunger  in  these 
cruel  times  !  But  to  proceed  with  our  story. 

Next  day  Albert  was  taken  ill ;  and  the 
good  Sister  who  came  to  see  him  shook  her 
head  sadly  in  answer  to  the  mother's  eager 
questions  and  piteous  entreaties.  She  could 
do  nothing — food  alone  could  save  him,  and 
that,  alas  !  she  had  not  to  give. 

Sadly  she  went  away,  her  kind  heart  heavily 
burdened  with  the  sorrow  of  others,  for  of  all 
sad  things  the  most  terrible  is  to  see  misery 
and  suffering,  which  is  capable  of  being  re- 
lieved, and  yet  not  be  able  to  do  it. 

Clarette  had  heard  the  Sister  say  to  a  neigh- 
bor, who  inquired  after  the  boy : 

"  Only  nourishment  can  save  him,  and  it 
seems  mockery  to  tell  the  poor  mother  that." 

Mockery,  indeed  ;  when  even  rich  people 
found  it  hard  to  get  food  ;  when  the  restau- 
rants once  renowned  for  delicate  fare,  were  now 
reduced  to  serving  up  cats,  dogs,  and  rats  to 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  101 

their  customers ;  when  the  butchers'  shops 
were  almost  empty,  and  all  who  possessed  a 
small  store  of  any  sort  of  food  could  scarcely 
be  induced  to  part  with  it  at  the  most  exor- 
bitant prices. 

To  a  child,  the  thought  that  anything  is 
inevitable  is  almost  impossible  to  realize. 
In  general  the  pains  and  pleasures  of  children 
are  so  dependent  on  the  will  of  others,  that  it 
seems  incredible  that  anything  should  befal 
them  that  cannot  be  helped,  if  only  some  one 
would.  As  people  grow  older  they  become 
more  accustomed  to  the  idea  that  there  are 
ills  which  no  exertion  on  our  part  can  avert, 
and  yet  even  the  most  resigned  will  take  all 
pains,  make  every  effort  when  there  is  anything 
to  be  done  which  can  prevent  the  dreaded 
evil ;  and  it  is  a  shock  to  all  to  see  a  fellow- 
being  suffering  and  dying  from  causes  which 
could  be  cured. 

To  Clarette  the  notion  seemed  intolerable. 
She  could  scarcely  believe  it.  A  little  food 
would  save  a  life,  would  bring  back  joy  to  the 
poor  mother's  heart,  and  yet  in  all  Paris  that 


102  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

little  food  could  not  be  had.  She  could  not 
get  the  thought  of  it  from  her  mind,  and  that 
afternoon,  drawn  by  a  curious  sympathy 
towards  the  door  of  the  sick-room,  she  sat 
on  the  staircase  listening  to  the  ravings  of  the 
fevered  child,  and  to  the  sobs  of  the  distracted 
mother,  and  feeling  such  a  heartache  for  thoss 
who  perhaps  had  been  more  nearly  like  ene- 
mies to  her  then  any  one  else,  in  her  short  life, 
as  she  had  never  felt  before.  No,  not  even 
when  Pierre  said  good-by,  or  the  news  came 
of  the  death  of  Jacques,  the  old  porter's  kind 
young  son,  on  the  field  of  Sedan. 

How  she  longed  to  be  able  to  do  something 
for  the  sufferer.  "  Yes,  even  though  he  beat 
you  once,  my  darling,"  she  whispered  to  Tresor, 
who  was  curled  up  in  her  lap  as  usual,  "I 
would  give  anything  I  have  to  save  his  life." 

At  that  moment  the  recollection  of  an 
advertisement  stuck  in  the  window  of  the 
restaurant  at  the  corner  of  the  street  came  to 
her  memory. 

"  Seven  francs  will  be  given  for  every  cat'' 

A  shudder  came  over  her  as  she  remembered 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  103 

it.  She  tried  to  forget  it,  but  as  she  heard  the 
sobs  of  Madame  Nicot  and  the  cries  of  the 
delirious  boy,  her  own  words,  "  I  would  give 
anything  I  have  to  save  his  life,"  seemed  to 
ring  in  her  ears,  and  her  often  spoken  wish  of 
making  some  sacrifice,  doing  some  good  to 
others,  came,  as  if  to  accuse  her,  to  her  mind. 

"Ah!  but  not  this!  Anything  but  this!" 
and  so  do  we  all  cry  when  the  hour  comes. 

Anything  but  what  is  demanded  of  us, 
anything  except  the  thing  we  can  do,  any 
sacrifice  but  that  which  is  a  real  sacrifice,  any 
self-denial  but  that  which  makes  us  shrink, 
any  offering  but  that  which  costs  us  dearly. 
Thus  do  our  hearts  cry  out,  when  the  moment 
of  trial  approaches,  and  our  human  nature 
shrinks  back  from  the  self-inflicted,  or 
Heaven-sent  suffering.  No  one  but  those 
who  have  known  in  some  degree  what  it  is  to 
cherish  a  real  wish  and  hope  of  doing  some 
noble  act,  to  have  kept  the  determination  of 
doing  some  great  deed  before  their  eyes  as  a 
vision  of  the  future,  to  have  longed  for  an 
opportunity  of  thus  showing  their  love  and 


iO4  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

devotion,  can  at  all  understand  the  feelings  of 
this  enthusiastic,  keenly-feeling  child,  whose 
sensitive  nature  at  the  same  time  was  fired 
with  admiration  at  all  traits  of  noble  self-de- 
votion in  others,  and  a  wish  to  imitate  them  ; 
while  it  rendered  her  the  more  alive  to  the 
suffering  which  must  ever  accompany  sacrifices 
of  affection.  The  moment  of  accomplishing 
her  resolve  had  arrived,  and  for  the  first  time 
she  understood  that  the  heights  of  self-sacrifice 
must  be  climbed  by  bleeding  feet. 

It  may  seem  strained  to  apply  such  grand 
terms  as  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  to  this 
little  French  girl's  opportunity  of  aiding  a 
sufferer  at  the  expense  of  her  affection  for  a 
cat,  but  all  things  are  relative.  A  hill  which 
looks  low  to  those  who  have  climbed  moun- 
tains, requires  great  exertion  to  mount  from 
those  who  are  unused  to  such  action,  and  in 
their  eyes  will  tower  above  them  like  Mont 
Blanc. 

Truly  no  fierce  struggle  between  patriotism 
and  self-interest,  honor  and  love,  can  cost  a 
more  real  pang  than  that  which  now  pierced 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  105 

the  child's  heart,  as  she  sat  with  her  cat 
clasped  to  her  breast,  striving  to  make  up  her 
mind  between  the  feelings  which  alternately 
swayed  her. 

On  one  side  pleaded  her  pity  for  the  sick 
boy,  the  lessons  taught  her  by  the  Sisters, 
her  own  cherished  dream,  the  example  of  the 
blessed  saints,  all  these  urged  her  on  ;  while 
keeping  her  back  were  her  fervent  love  for  her 
only  pet,  her  affection  for  Pierre,  whose  gift  it 
had  been,  and  horror  at  the  thought  of  the  fate 
in  store  for  her  darling. 

"  No  !  she  could  not,  she  ought  not  !  It 
would  be  cruel,  wicked,  to  sell  her  beloved 
Tresor,  Pierre's  present,  for  such  a  purpose. 
And  then,  of  what  use  would  seven  francs  be  ? 
It  could  buy  but  little,  and  she  would  just 
have  lost  her  pet,  have  killed  her  darling  for 
nothing  ! 

So  over  and  over  again  she  argued  with  her- 
self, and  yet  in  spite  of  all  she  could  say,  the 
sound  of  her  former  speeches  seemed  to  echo 
in  her  ears,  as  if  to  mock  her. 

She  had  wondered  at  those  who  had  money 


106  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

not  sharing  their  good  things  with  the  poor. 
She  had  declared  nothing  should  keep  her 
from  doing  a  "  golden  deed  "  if  it  were  ever  in 
her  power  ;  she  had  dwelt  in  half-envious  ad- 
miration on  stories  of  heroic  children,  of 
unselfish  acts,  of  painful  sacrifice. 

Tears  and  sobs  took  the  place  at  last  of 
these  contending  voices.  Passionately  hug- 
ging the  unconscious  Tresor,  she  kissed  his 
soft  gray  fur,  as  she  murmured  : 

"  No,  no,  my  Tresor,  I  could  not  do  it — I 
could  not  hurt  thee  !  It  would  be  too  hard, 
too  cruel !" 

And  then,  as  we  have  said,  she  sat  and  cried 
till  her  mother's  footsteps  were  heard,  and 
then  fearful  of  being  questioned,  she  had 
hurried  into  their  room. 

To  return  now  to  where  we  had  left  her, 
Madame  Blampied  paid  a  visit  to  her  neighbor, 
and  came  back  looking  still  sadder. 

"  We  can  only  pray,  my  child  !"  was  all  she 
said,  and  taking  Jean  in  her  arms,  she  bade 
Clarette  come  with  her  to  the  church. 

Clarette   obeyed,  first  looking  to  see  that 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  107 

Tresor  was  safe  in  the  room  before  she  closed 
the  door,  and  then  she  followed  her  mother 
down  the  stairs  into  the  street,  now  so  quiet 
and  deserted.  As  she  passed  the  butcher's 
shop,  she  averted  her  head,  as  if  to  refuse  to 
see  the  advertisement  which  haunted  her,  but 
almost  against  her  will  she  felt  compelled  to 
look  to  see  if  it  were  still  there.  Yes  !  there 
it  was,  in  great  black  letters,  that  seemed  to 
stare  at  her,  and  say,  "  Seven  francs  !  food 
for  the  hungry,  comfort  for  the  sorrowing 
mother  !" 

But  now  they  have  passed,  and  are  at  the 
church.  In  those  days  of  misery  the  churches 
were  fuller  than  in  happier  times.  Men  may 
think  they  can  get  on  without  God  when  all 
is  bright  and  joyous  for  them,  but  when  dark 
days  come,  they  feel  the  need  of  a  stronger 
arm,  a  Higher  Power,  on  which  to  rest  and 
hope;  and  those  who  have  long  been  deaf  to 
the  loving  appeal  which  goes  on  continually 
in  our  ears,  are  aroused  to  a  consciousness 
that  there  is  a  Father  in  Heaven,  a  God  who 
ruleth  the  heart  when  trials  and  troubles  come. 


io8  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

Bearded  men,  whose  faces  were  stern  and 
white  with  grief  and  anxiety,  mothers  whose 
very  souls  were  racked  with  sorrow,  wives 
whose  husbands  were  braving  death,  whose 
children  were  starving,  whose  every  affection 
seemed  but  a  cause  of  fresh  suffering,  knelt 
absorbed  in  prayer,  and  with  them  were  little 
children,  who  also  had  learned  to  come  to 
God  to  seek  for  help  and  courage. 

All  hearts  were  bowed  in  an  agony  of  sup- 
plication during  the  short  service,  and  then 
by  twos  and  threes  the  congregation  dispersed, 
comforted  in  some  degree,  surely,  by  their 
communion  with  God. 

Some  however  still  knelt,  and  among  these 
were  Clarette  and  her  mother,  the  latter 
praying  as  only  mothers  can  pray  for  their 
children,  that  they  and  she  also  might  have 
strength  to  bear  all  that  His  will  should  send 
them.  Clarette,  too,  was  pouring  out  her 
heart,  her  doubts,  her  fears,  her  indecision, 
to  that  loving  Saviour  whom  she  had  been 
taught  was  ever  ready  to  hear  even  a  child's 
prayer.  If  only  she  could  make  up  her  mind  ! 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  109 

As  she  was  once  more  debating  the  question 
within  herself,  a  loud  voice  broke  the  stillness 
of  the  'church.  She  started,  for  the  words 
seemed  an  answer  to  her  questioning.  "  I  will 
not  offer  unto  the  Lord  my  God  of  that  which 
costs  me  nothing." 

It  was  the  voice  of  a  priest,  a  famous 
preacher,  who  was  about  to  deliver  a  sermon, 
and  this  was  the  text  he  had  chosen.  Never 
had  Clarette  listened  to  legend  or  story,  as 
she  listened  to  that  sermon,  every  word  of 
which  seemed  meant  for  her  alone,  as  the 
preacher  dwelt  on  the  necessity  of  suffering 
which  exists  in  every  offering.  He  dwelt  on 
the  various  ways  in  which  men  might  make 
offerings  to  God,  from  the  highest  of  all — the 
surrender  of  ourselves,  body,  soul  and  spirit, 
to  His  will  and  service,  to  the  smallest  service 
we  render  to  any  of  our  fellow-creatures 
for  His  Name's  sake.  Far  more  he  said  than 
lean  repeat  here.  The  closing  passage  of  his 
sermon  is  all  I  shall  give  ;  that  will  be  enough 
to  show  you  how  Clarette's  decision  was 
come  to. 


no  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

"  I  know,  beloved,"  he  said,  "  that  at  this 
time,  when  few  have  enough  to  supply  their 
barest  needs,  it  may  appear  a  mockery  to 
dwell  on  the  duty  of  helping  others.  And 
yet,  my  brethren,  it  is  at  this  very  time  that 
there  are  most  opportunities  of  so  doing,  and 
of  earning  for  yourselves  the  reward  of  your 
Saviour's  gratitude;  for  no  less  than  that  has 
he  promised  to  those  who  give  even  a  cup  of 
cold  water  for  His  Name's  sake. 

"  Let  us  not  forget  this.  Share  your  poverty 
with  one  another  to  the  best  of  your  ability, 
and  I  know,  yes,  I  know,  it  shall  be  recom- 
pensed unto  you  ;  for  the  Lord  Himself  hath 
said  it ;  and  though  men  say  how  can  this  be, 
I  trust  in  Him  who  is  Truth  itself,  and  feel 
certain  that  none  who  deny  themselves  for 
Him  shall  miss  their  guerdon  ;  not  that  it 
may  be  paid  them  in  the  good  things  of  this 
world,  the  meat  and  the  drink  which  perish  in 
the  using,  but  the  peace  of  a  heart  full  of  love 
and  faith  toward  God  shall  be  theirs  ;  and  in 
the  world  to  come — eternal  life.  Then,  my 
brethren,  let  us  take  the  sufferings  of  this  fear- 


THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS.  in 

ful  time,  as  the  holy  saints  of  old  took  theirs 
as  coming  from  God,  and  they  will  carry  us 
on  toward  heaven.  Borne  with  murmurs,  or 
with  despair,  they  will  but  impede  us  on  our 
way.  Manfully  endure,  earnestly  pray,  and 
watch  lest  the  evil  passions  which  the  horrors 
and  privations  of  war  so  often  fan  into  devour- 
ing flames,  consume  all  brotherly  affections. 
The  wounded  and  the  sick  especially  call  for 
our  help  and  sympathy.  Let  us  all  respond 
to  that  call  to  the  utmost  of  our  power. 

"  'Ye  do  it  unto  me' — unto  Me,  the  Lord 
who  bought  you,  the  Saviour  who  redeemed 
you,  the  King  who  shall  judge  you,  the  Friend 
who  will  never  forsake  you." 

He  stopped,  and  Clarette  gave  the  long 
sigh  of  excited  interest  and  exhaustion,  which 
every  true  listener  knows,  and  throwing  her- 
self on  her  knees  as  he  pronounced  the  bene- 
diction, she  from  the  depths  of  her  heart,  full 
of  a  child's  love  and  faith,  prayed  to  her  dear 
Lord  to  accept  her  offering,  and  to  make  her 
willing  to  give  it ;  and  then,  rising  from  her 
knees,  with  her  eyes  bright  with  a  nobler  light 


ii2  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

than  had  ever  before  shone  in  them,  she  obey- 
ed her  mother's  summons  to  return. 

Clarette  was  no  ordinary  child  ;  her  nature 
was  neither  shallow  nor  weak ;  she  had 
decided  what  was  right,  and  having  made  her 
decision,  would  keep  to  it ;  so  that,  though 
the  natural  feelings  of  her  heart  would  make 
themselves  heard,  and  pleaded  for  her  dearly 
loved  pet,  she  never  for  an  instant  wavered  in 
her  resolution. 

With  a  face  pale  and  set,  she  walked  up  the 
many  flights  of  stairs  into  their  room.  There 
was  Tresor  fast  asleep  ;  till,  hearing  her  step, 
he  jumped  up  and  came  to  meet  her,  rubbing 
himself  lovingly  against  her  and  purring 
loudly. 

A  great  lump  came  into  her  throat,  a  mist  of 
tears  blotted  him  out  of  her  sight,  as  she  took 
her  darling  in  her  arms  for  the  last  time  and 
carried  him  off  to  his  cruel  fate.  A  feeling  as 
if  she  were  a  traitor  to  her  darling,  as  if  he 
would  find  it  out  and  hate  her  ;  all  the  keen 
unreasonable  feelings  of  a  child  tormented  her 
even  more  than  her  own  grief;  but  with  a 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  113 

hero's  resolution  she  turned  to  go  down  the 
stairs. 

As  she  passed  Madame  Nicot's  door,  she 
heard  the  mother  say  : 

"  We  can  only  pray,  my  friend  ;  but  prayer 
is  mighty,  and  Sister  Adele  promised  to  bring 
food  to-morrow,  if  she  possibly  can." 

"  To-morrow  !"  said  the  mother,  in  a  tone 
sharp  with  agony.  "  He  cannot  live  till  to- 
morrow !  Oh  !  my  boy,  my  boy  !"  and  the 
sobs  choked  her  voice. 

As  if  to  give  herself  no  time  to  repent, 
Clarette  rushed  down  the  stairs,  flew  rather 
than  walked  through  the  street,  and  gained 
the  butcher's  shop  in  a  few  seconds.  The 
owner  was  just  closing  his  empty  shop,  as  the 
child,  flushed  and  breathless,  arrived. 

"  Sir,"  she  stammered,  "  your  advertisement 
—  this  is  my" —  She  could  not  finish,  but 
biting  her  lip  to  keep  back  the  tears,  she  hid 
ner  face  against  the  cat,  and  was  silent. 

The  butcher  was  somewhat  bewildered. 

"  Is  it  that  you  want  to  sell  your  cat,  my 
child,"  he  asked,  "  or  what  is  it  ?" 
8 


ii4  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

"  Yes,  it  is  that — I  must.  I  want  the 
money,"  stammered  Claretteat  length  ;  "take 
him,  sir,  and  oh  !  please,"  and  here  her  sobs 
and  tears  refused  to  be  controlled,  "please, 
do  not  hurt  him  muc/i." 

The  butcher  was  touched,  but  business  is 
business.  He  took  out  the  seven  francs,  and 
lifting  Tresor  from  her  arms,  dropped  the  sil- 
ver pieces  into  her  hand.  Tresor  gave  a 
plaintive  mew  as  he  felt  himself  in  a  strange 
grasp.  The  sound  seemed  to  pierce  Clarette's 
heart.  She  gave  a  little  cry,  put  out  her  hand, 
as  if  to  take  him  back  again,  and  then  turned 
suddenly  and  sped  away  as  fast  as  she 
could. 

She  did  not  stop  till  she  reached  the  restau- 
rant just  opposite  the  gateway  of  the  Hotel 
Bourgon,  and  there  she  entered. 

She  was  well  known  to  the  proprietor,  for 
in  the  bright  and  joyous  days  before  the  war 
he  had  often  supplied  suppers  to  the  wealthy 
dwellers  in  the  Hotel  Bourgon,  and  used  fre- 
quently to  stop  to  speak  to  the  bright-faced 
child  when  he  met  her  in  the  court-yard, 


CLARETTE  SELLING    HER  CAT — PAGE   114. 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  115 

often  giving  her  some  little  dainty  for  herself 
or  her  cat. 

He  had  not  seen  her  for  some  time,  but  re- 
cognized her  at  once,  and  said,  with  a  kindly 
nod  : 

"  Well,  little  one,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

Clarette  tried  to  steady  her  voice  sufficiently 
to  answer,  but  something  seemed  to  choke 
her,  and  while  she  was  trying  to  speak,  the 
man  observed  her  more  closely,  and  seeing 
how  pale  and  thin  she  was,  supposed  she  must 
have  come  to  him  to  beg,  thinking  that  in  re- 
membrance of  the  old  days  he  would  give  her 
something. 

Monsieur  Baptiste  was  not  a  bad-hearted 
man,  and  he  had  always  liked  the  little  girl, 
and  in  times  of  plenty  would  willingly  have 
given  to  her,  or  any  one  else  in  need  ;  but 
poverty  makes  worldly  people  more  and  more 
selfish,  and  these  were  not  days  in  which 
people  could  give  away  a  bit  of  blac1-:  bread 
without  seriously  feeling  the  sacrifice,  for  every 
crumb  in  the  city  was  daily  getting  more  pre* 
cious. 


ii6  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

But  as  he  was  deciding  that,  painful  as  it 
was,  he  must  refuse  her,  his  eye  caught  the 
glitter  of  the  silver  pieces  which  Clarette  held 
tightly  in  her  hand,  and  that  changed  the 
complexion  of  things  ;  and  he  said,  gayly : 

"  You  are  hungry,  my  child.  You  want  to 
buy.  Well,  what  is  it  to  be?  'Bow-wow 
cutlets,  or  pussy-patties  ?'  But  you  are  pro- 
bably tired  of  Pussy.  Doubtless  my  old  friend 
Tresor  gave  you  some  meals  ?" 

At  this,  Clarette  could  no  longer  control 
herself,  and  burst  into  such  an  agony  of  tears, 
that  Baptiste  was  quite  frightened  ;  and  a  pur- 
chaser entering  his  shop  at  this  moment,  he 
called  his  wife  to  look  after  the  child,  and 
bustled  away  to  attend  upon  the  new  comer. 

His  wife  was  a  kind  motherly  woman,  and 
with  a  few  questions  and  caresses  soon  drew 
the  outlines  of  her  story  from  Clarette.  "  She 
had  come  to  buy  some  brown  stuff— she  did 
not  quite  know  its  name,  but  she  had  heard  of 
it — that  soup  was  made  of  it,  and  it  was  for  a 
sick  boy — she  was  crying,  because  Tresor, — 
her  cat  Tresor — was  gone." 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  117 

"  Gone  !  where  ?" 

"  Sold.  I  sold  him,  but  I  could  not  help  it. 
This  is  the  money,  and  oh  !  please  Madame, 
can  you  sell  me  a  little  of  the  soup-stuff? 
Albert  is  so  ill,  so  very  ill  ;  and  the  Sisters 
say  it  is  only  this  which  can  do  him  good." 

The  woman's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as 
Clarette  ended.  She  guessed  how  it  was,  and 
her  mother-heart  was  deeply  moved  by  the 
child's  loving  sacrifice,  and  evident  grief. 
But  it  was  no  easy  thing  to  comply  with  her 
request,  as  M.  Baptiste,  though  quite  able  to 
appreciate  the  child's  conduct,  and  be  touched 
by  it,  at  the  same  time  seldom  let  his  emotions 
interfere  with  business.  They  had  only  one 
little  jar  of  this  extract  of  meat — which  was 
what  Clarette  meant — remaining,  and  this  he 
was  keeping  as  a  last  resource  for  themselves, 
should  the  siege  be  prolonged.  But  the  good 
woman  resolved  to  make  an  effort  to  induce 
him  to  part  with  a  spoonful  or  two  for  the 
sake  of  the  child.  She  drew  him  on  one  side, 
told  Clarette's  story  so  pathetically,  and 
pleaded  so  earnestly,  that  her  husband  at 


ii8  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

length  consented  ;  and  being,  as  I  have  said, 
naturally  a  kind-hearted  man,  suggested  to 
his  wife  that  she  had  better  make  the  soup 
there,  as  it  was  unlikely  that  there  was  any 
fire  in  the  Blampieds'  room. 

Madame  Baptiste  joyfully  agreed,  and  pre- 
sently came  into  the  shop  with  a  jug  full  of 
steaming  beef-tea,  which  she  put  into  Cla- 
rette's  hands,  saying : 

"I  will  walk  across  the  street  with  you, 
for  these  are  days  when  for  a  drink  of  soup 
men  will  do  much,  and  you  might  be  robbed 
of  your  prize." 

But  the  street  was  almost  empty.  The 
stars  were  shining  brightly  as  they  went  into 
the  street ;  so,  as  they  got  near  the  gateway, 
Madame  Baptiste  wished  the  child  good-night 
and  returned. 

Madame  Blampied  was  just  coming  out  of 
the  gate  as  her  little  girl  entered.  Full  of 
anxiety  at  the  absence  of  the  child,  she  had, 
at  length,  determined  to  go  out  to  search  for 
her  ;  but  on  seeing  her  safe  and  sound,  she 
exclaimed,  with  some  vexation  in  her  tone  : 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  119 

"  Clarette  !  where  have  you  been  ?  It  is 
seven  o'clock — far  too  late  for  you  to  be 
roaming  about  the  streets.  Has  anything 
happened  to  you  ?" 

"No,  mother,  nothing,"  answered  Clarette, 
her  voice  still  trembling,  after  her  long  fit  of 
crying.  "  Nothing  has  happened,  except, — 
except  that  I  have  got  some  soup  for  Albert." 

"  Some  soup  !"  exclaimed  Madame  Blam- 
pied,  little  less  surprised  than  if  she  had 
heard  of  a  miracle.  "  Ciel  !  how  could  you 
have  got  it,  my  child  ?" 

"I  —  I  bought  it,  mother.  M.  Baptiste 
was  very  kind,  and  let  me  have  it  when  he 
heard  it  was  for  a  sick  boy  ;  but  this  is  all  he 
can  spare.  Do  you  think  it  is  enough  to  do 
him  any  good  ?" 

Silent  from  astonishment,  Madame  Blam- 
pied  lifted  up  the  cover  of  the  tin,  and  saw 
more  than  a  pint  of  good  dark  soup,  the 
smell  of  which  almost  made  the  poor  half- 
famished  woman  sick  with  longing.  Hastily 
replacing  the  cover,  she  took  the  tin  from 
Clarette,  saying :  "  God  be  praised  for  this ! 


120  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

it  may  save  the  poor  boy's  life  !  He  shall 
have  it  at  once,  and  then,  my  darling,  you 
must  tell  me  what  good  angel  helped  you." 

And  the  good  woman,  unselfishly  rejoicing 
over  her  neighbor's  good  fortune,  went  quickly 
up  the  stairs,  followed  more  slowly  by  Cla- 
rette,  who  dreaded  entering  their  room, 
which  would  seem  so  desolate  without  her 
Tresor,  whose  little  cry  of  delight  had  always 
greeted  her  entrance.  She  found  Jean  seated 
on  the  window  sill,  and  crying  bitterly.  He 
came  running  to  meet  her,  sobbing  out  : 

"  Oh  !  Clarie,  Clarie,  Tresor  is  gone  !  We 
cannot  find  him,  and  mother  says  some  one 
must  have  stolen  him  to  sell — for  they  eat 
cats  now — oh  !  do  you  think  any  one  could 
be  so  cruel  as  to  kill  Tresor  ?" 
•  Clarette  could  not  answer.  She  could  only 
cry  too,  while  Jean  continued  to  sob  out 
lamentations,  varied  by  conjectures  as  to 
what  Pierre  would  say  when  he  came  back. 
Clarette  had  already  thought  of  this,  and  the 
idea  that  he  might  think  her  cruel,  or  un- 
grateful, was  a  very  terrible  one  to  her. 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  121 

As  she  was  drying  her  eyes,  and  trying  to 
quiet  Jean,  her  mother  entered. 

"  Madame  Nicot  wants  to  thank  you,"  she 
began,  but  guessing  that  Clarette  had  just 
heard  of  the  loss  of  her  pet,  she  came  to  her 
little  girl,  and  kissing  her  tenderly,  said  : 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  my  child,  and  I  could 
weep  for  Tresor  myself.  He  was  the  best 
and  dearest  of  pets,  but,  perhaps,  he  may  yet 
find  his  way  back  to  us." 

Clarette  shook  her  head,  as  she  said,  sadly : 

"  No,  no,  mamma,  he  will  never,  never 
come  back,  and  it  is  my  doing." 

"  Your  doing,  my  child  !  Surely  not.  I 
remember  hojy  careful  you  were  to  shut  the 
door  before  we  went  to  church." 

"  It  is  my  doing,  mother,"  said  Clarette,  in 
a  low  voice.  "  I  will  tell  you  about  it  when 
Jean  is  asleep.  I  would  rather  he  did  not 
know." 

And  50,  after  her  little  brother  was  in  bed 
and  asleep,  Clarette  told  her  mother  in  a  few 
words  what  she  had  done,  and  Madame  Blam- 
pied,  thanking  God  in  her  heart  for  having 


122  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

given  her  a  child  with  such  a  spirit,  comforted 
her  littJe  daughter,  and  told  her  how  happy 
she  should  be  to  think  that  such  an  opportu- 
nity had  been  given  her  of  carrying  out  her 
dreams  and  wishes. 

"  We  should  love  animals,  my  darling,  be- 
cause God  made  them,  but  we  should  love 
our  fellow-men  more,  for  they  are  more  pre- 
cious in  His  sight,  and  if  we  allow  our  affection 
for  our  pets  to  stand  in  the  way  of  our  being 
kind  to  one  another,  it  is  only  being  selfish, 
not  kind-hearted.  Thank  the  good  God  in 
your  prayers  to-night,  my  child,  for  having 
helped  you  to  do  right." 

Clarette  felt  cheered  and  comforted  by  her 
mother's  words,  and  went  to  sleep  much  less 
unhappy  than  it  would  have  seemed  a  few 
hours  ago  possible  to  be.  Her  mother  had 
convinced  her  that  Tresor  would  not  be 
tortured,  would  probably  not  even  have  time 
to  suffer,  while  on  the  other  hand,  Albert, 
without  the  soup,  would  have  got  too  low 
and  weak  for  any  hope  of  his  recovery,  and 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  123 

his  poor  mother  would  have  been  left  deso- 
late and  alone. 

Now  for  a  short  time  we  must  leave  Cla- 
rette  and  her  mother,  and  take  a  glimpse  at 
what  Pierre  is  doing. 


CHAPTER    V. 

a  long  room  in  which  stand  rows  of 
narrow  beds,  lies  a  youth  whose  pale 
drawn  features  have  little  in  them  to 
remind  one  of  the  healthy  merry  Pierre 
of  a  year  ago. 
Pale  and  still  he  lies,  his  dark  eyes  fixed  on 
the  window  opposite  him,  through  which  he 
can  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  blue  sky,  under- 
neath which  he  is  never  again  to  stand,  and 
as  he  looks  a  faint  smile  trembles  on  his  white 
lips,  for  he  is  thinking  of  what  lies  beyond  that 
sky,  and  of  the  wonders  and  glories  which 
shall  one  day  be  his  in  that  land  so  far-off, 
and  which  is  yet  to  him  so  near. 

Presently  a  figure  passes  between  him  and 
the  window,  and  a  gentle  face,  which  he  has 
(124) 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  125 

learned  dearly  to  love  bends  over  him  and 
speaks  to  him  kind,  soothing  words.  The 
dark  eyes  glisten  as  the  feeble  hand  —  for 
Pierre  has  only  one  hand  now — feels  weakly 
about  to  touch  that  of  the  kind  Sister  of 
Mercy  for  whose  coming  he  had  been  hop- 
ing. 

"  Thank  God  you  are  come,  in  time,  Sister," 
he  murmured,  in  a  low,  faint  voice,  and  then 
trying  to  point  to  his  neck,  he  whispered  : 

"Will  you  take  it  off?" 

The  Sister  obeyed  the  sign,  and  unfastened 
a  piece  of  black  ribbon,  and  took  from  his 
neck  a  little  cross,  which  she  put  into  his 
hand. 

41  Little  Clarette  !"  he  murmured,  "thy  gift 
has  been  a  blessed  one  to  me."  Then  signing 
to  the  Sister,  he  continued  in  a  voice  that  grew 
more  and  more  faint:  "Promise  me,  Sister, 
that  you  will  find  her  when  you  can,  Hotel 

Bourgon,  Rue  .  I  have  told  you  where 

before,"  and  his  eyes  looked  anxiously  at  the 
Sister. 

"  Yes,   my  son,   I   know,"  she    answered, 


126  THE  NEW-YEAR  GIFTS. 

gently,  "and  I  will  take  it  to  her,  and  tell 
her  all." 

He  smiled  his  thanks,  and  whispered  : 

"  Tell  her  how  it  helped  me  to  remember 
the  mother's  lessons.  That  though  I  have 
had  no  chance  of  doing  a  noble  deed,  I  have 
tried  to  do  my  duty.  God  is  merciful,  and 
He  will  forgive." 

His  voice  failed  him,  his  hand  grew  cold. 
For  one  moment  a  heavenly  smile  shone  in 
his  black  eyes,  and  over  the  pale  features, 
and  then  the  still  form  was  forsaken  by  its 
spirit,  which  passed  into  the  presence  of  its 
Maker. 

A  tear  glistened  in  the  Sister's  eyes  as  she 
closed  the  eyes  and  crossed  the  arms  about 
the  breast  ;  and  then  after  hanging  the  little 
cross  round  her  neck  for  safe  keeping,  she 
passed  on  to  the  next  bed. 

"Is  he  gone  ?"  asks  the  soldier  who  is 
lying  in  it. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Sister,  "he  has  gone 
to  rest." 

"  Ah !"  and  the  soldier,  a    rough,    middle- 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  127 

aged  man,  sighed.  "Well  !  we  must  all  die, 
but  it  is  not  all  who  are  ready.  We  laughed 
at  him  in  the  fort,  and  called  him  the  monk, 
but,  maybe,  when  a  man  comes  to  die,  it  is 
better  to  have  been  mocked,  than  to  have 
mocked." 

"  He  died  like  a  Christian."  said  the  Sister, 
gently,  "as  we'shall  all  die,  I  trust,  when  we 
are  called." 

"  He  lived  like  one,"  said  the  man  brusquely. 
Then  added,  in  a  softer  tone,  "Well  !  he  was 
a  good  comrade,  and  did  many  a  good  turn 
for  those  who  jeered  at  him.  There  !  where 
is  the  use  of  regretting  by-gones — the  lad  is 
gone,  and  I  can  never  tell  him  that  if  things 
were  to  come  over  again  Jean  Mourut  would 
take  a  different  part  ;  but  at  least  this  I  can 
and  will  do,  give  up  the  bad  ways  he  used  to 
look  so  grave  at.  I  may  never  be  a  saint, 
but  please  God,  neither  will  I  be  a  devil  any 
longer." 

"  That  is  well,  my  son,  and  perhaps  Pierre 
may  be  permitted  to  know  if  he  has  won  one 
soul  back  to  Christ." 


128  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

"  He  had  done  no  noble  deed,  only  his 
duty."  Those  were  the  humble  words  of  the 
young  soldier,  as  he  lay  dying,  but  the  Sister 
who  had  heard  them  knew  well  what  a  hard 
duty  that  had  been,  and  how  nobly  he  had 
done  it. 

In  those  long  days  of  suffering  which  Pierre 
had  borne  so  bravely  and  patiently,  the  nurse 
and  the  sick  boy  had  been  much  together,  and 
the  quiet  holy  face  of  the  Sister  had  seemed 
to  the  boy  a  reflection  of  his  long-dead 
mother  ;  so  that  he  had  gradually  given  her 
all  his  confidence,  had  told  her  of  his  ignorant 
childhood,  the  kindness  of  his  only  friends  the 
Blampieds,  who  had  done  so  much  for  him, 
and  had  even  described  Clarette,  and  related 
the  dreams  of  noble  deeds,  the  stories  of  the 
Saints  of  old  which  had,  he  said,  so  often 
helped  him  and  strengthened  him,  when  he 
was  well-nigh  weary  of  striving  to  keep  out 
of  evil.  -  ,»  . 

It  was  the  Sister  who  had  told  him  that 
life  was  slipping  from  him,  who  had  cheered 
his  soul  with  words  of  holy  faith  and  love,  and 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  129 

who  had  brought  a  priest  to  give  to  him  the 
food  which  would  strengthen  his  soul  in  the 
last  agony,  and  prepare  it  for  the  meeting 
with  its  God. 

Now  he  had  fallen  asleep,  his  short  battle 
was  over — the  shore  was  gained — and  there 
were  few  who  would  remember  that  Pierre 
had  ever  lived. 

But  not  in  vain  had  that  short  life  been 
given.  More  than  one  of  his  rough  compan- 
ions would  be  the  better  all  their  lives  for  the 
lessons  they  had  seen  him  practise  in  the 
midst  of  evil  examples,  corrupting  influences, 
mocking  gibes,  and  insulting  sneers. 

And  when,  at  length,  one  February  day, 
when  the  siege  was  over,  and  the  once  proud 
city  lay  humbled  and  helpless  before  its  con- 
querors, Clarette  received  from  the  Sister's 
hands  the  little  cross,  and  heard  how  nobly 
her  friend  had  fought  his  fight,  how  like  the 
heroes  of  her  loved  st'ories,  he  had  resisted 
evil,  and  endured  scorn,  there  were  some 
hearts  that  grieved  sorely  at  the  thought  that 
they  should  see  his  face  no  more. 
9 


130  THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS. 

But  the  memory  of  his  steadfastness,  the 
recollection  of  how  he  had  done,  not  dreamt 
noble  deeds,  while,  himself  unconscious  that 
there  was  aught  that  was  noble  about  them, 
could  never  cease  to  act  like  a  living  example 
upon  his  little  friend  ;  who,  as  she  hung  the 
little  cross  round  her  own  neck,  prayed  that 
she  might  never  forget  him,  or  the  lessons  the 
dreadful  siege  had  taught  her.  She  would 
never  again  long  for  some  great  thing  to  do  ; 
she  had  found  how  hard  it  was  to  do  little 
ones,  and  how,  unless  God  had  helped  her, 
she  would  have  been  too  selfish,  despite  all 
her  dreams,  to  make  a  sacrifice  even  to  save 
the  life  of  a  fellow-creature;  while  Pierre, 
whom  she  had  thought  far  less  enthusiastic 
than  herself,  had  for  weeks  and  months  gone 
steadily  on  in  his  difficult  path,  being  kind  to 
his  tormentors,  faithful  to  his  God. 

A  few  more  words  and  we  have  done. 

Those  last  days  oT  the  siege  were  very 
terrible  ones,  but  the  God  in  whom  Madame 
Blampied  so  fervently  trusted,  brought  her 
and  her  little  ones  safely  through  them ; 


THE  NEW- YEAR  GIFTS.  131 

though  all  three  were  worn  into  mere  shadows 
of  their  former  selves,  and  Madame  Blampied's 
nerves  were  so  shattered  by  all  she  had  seen 
and  suffered,  that  she  could  not  rest  till  she 
had  left  Paris,  and  gone  back  to  the  little  farm 
in  Normandy  where  her  brother  lived. 

There,  too,  war  had  left  its  dismal  mark, 
but  poor  and  wretched  as  it  was,  she  felt  she 
was  happier  there,  and  would  willingly  work 
twice  as  hard  as  she  had  ever  done,  to  remain 
there,  away  from  the  great  city  which  had 
grown  so  hateful  to  her. 

Well  was  it  for  her  and  her  little  ones  that 
she  did  so  ;  for  soon  the  clouds  gathered 
again,  and  a  still  more  frightful  storm  raged 
within  and  around  the  city,  once  the  pride, 
now  the  warning  of  the  whole  of  Europe. 

How  that  storm  will  end,  none  even  now 
can  tell ;  but  surely  all  must  join  in  praying 
that  He  who  putteth  down  one,  and  exalteth 
another,  in  whose  hands  is  the  government 
of  the  whole  earth,  will  bring  order  out  oi 
chaos,  and  restore  the  blessing  of  Peace  to 
the  once  fair  land  of  France. 


THE    CHILDREN'S   SOCIETY. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 


*£ftl)  E  quiet,  Dan  !  Pussy  '11  wake  up  if 
you  speak,"  said  Jack,  in  a  loud 
whisper. 

"  I  will  throw  it,  myself,"  said  Dan, 
in  a  still"  louder  whisper. 
"No,  I  am  the  oldest,"  cried  Jack,  suddenly 
forgetting  to  whisper  at  all  ;  so  Pussy,  hearing 
the  scuffle,  and  all  at  once  roused  from  her 
nap  on  the  grass,  looked  up  at  the  boys' 
window.  What  did  she  see  there  but  Jack 
and  Dan  Arnold  struggling  for  a  bowl  of 
water,  a  good  deal  of  which  they  had  already 
lost  on  their  jackets  ;  and,  knowing  from  past 
experience  that  the  rest  was  probably  intended 


136  THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

for  her  own  glossy  coat,  Pussy  beat  a  rapid 
retreat,  and  was  soon  safe  under  a  currant- 
bush,  where  they  could  see  her  great  green 
eyes  peeping  out  at  them. 

"Look  here,  young  ones,  what  mischief  are 
you  about  now  ?"  asked  a  voice,  and  a  hand 
was  laid  on  Jack's  shoulder. 

"  Oh !"  cried  Jack,  starting,  and  looking 
anything  but  pleased  at  the  interruption  ; 
"  well,  you  see,  Cousin  Will,  it's  all  Dan's 
fault.  I  was  going  to  throw  the  water  as 
easy — as  easy  as — anything  ;  and  then  Dan 
must  needs  come  and  put  in  his  oar,  and  you 
know  he's  too  young  to  duck  a  cat  properly." 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  is,"  said  Will,  "  and  I  know 
something  else,  too, — that  you  are  too  young 
or  too  old,  or  something,  to  torment  that  poor 
old  cat,  Master  Jack." 

Jack  looked  rather  ashamed,  but  didn't  like 
to  show  it. 

"  Oh,  I  did  it  beautifully,  yesterday,  and  it 
was  such  fun  to  see  her  take  one  skip  in  the 
air,  and  then  shake  her  paws  ; — oh,  real  fun  !" 
said  Jack,  trying  to  laugh  off  his  confusion. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         137 

"Well,  I  should  think  it  might  be,"  said 
Will,  thoughtfully.  "  I  should  like  to  try  it 
too,  but  not  on  such  small  game  as  cats — I 
think  a  nice  big  boy  about  nine  or  ten  years 
old  would  be  more  fun.  Let  me  see,  how  old 
are  you,  Jack  ?"  he  asked,  turning  to  the  boy 
with  a  suddenness  that  made  him  start  and 
move  toward  the  door. 

"  Not  so  fast,  young  man,"  cried  Will,  taking 
him  in  his  strong  arms  ;  "  you  know  I  wouldn't 
hurt  you  for  anything,  but  it  would  be  such 
fun  to  let  the  water  down  on  you  in  the 
shower-bath,  and  see  you  skip  about  and  shake 
your  little  paws." 

Dan  was  by  this  time  out  of  reach,  in  the 
hall,  but  he  peeped  through  the  crack  of  the 
door  and  giggled — to  Jack's  intense  indigna- 
tion. 

"I've  had  one  bath  to-day,"  said  he,  dog- 
gedly, "and  that's  a  plenty." 

"Oh,  did  you  suppose  I  was  thinking  of 
your  good,  or  my  own  fun  ?"  asked  Will. 
"  Did  you  throw  the  water  on  Pussy  yester- 
day because  she  had  not  had  a  bath  for  some 


138         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

time,  and  you  thought  it  was  good  for  her 
health  ?" 

Jack  writhed  and  struggled,  but  his  cousin 
held  him  firmly. 

"  I  think  it's  as  bad  for  you  to  plague  me  as 
for  me  to  plague  the  cat,"  said  he,  at  last, 
giving  two  or  three  little  jumps  to  get  free. 

"  Oh,  then  you  do  think  it  was  bad  in  you 
to  tease  her,"  said  Will,  quickly. 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  so,  but  then  only  think  how 
old  you  are — been  in  college  ever  so  long, 
beat  in  a  boat-race  too,  you  know,"  said  Jack, 
looking,  for  the  first  time,  in  Will's  face,  to 
see  the  effect  of  this  little  bit  of  flattery. 
"I  do  think  you  might  hit  a  fellow  of  your 
own  size." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  hit  anybody,  just  now," 
said  his  cousin,  the  shadow  of  a  smile  turning 
up  the  corners  of  his  mouth  :  "  but  now,  Jack, 
just  tell  me,  don't  you  really  feel  sorry  for  the 
poor  cat  ?  Think  how  cold  the  water  must 
feel  on  her  back  ;  and  you  know  cats  hate 
water,  cold  or  warm,  a  great  deal  more  than 
boys  do.  You  are  sorry,  aren  't  you  ?" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         139 

Jack  didn't  answer,  at  first.  He  was  not  an 
unkind  boy,  though  he  sometimes  thought- 
lessly did  unkind  things.  He  still  thought  it 
was  "  fun  to  see  Pussy  give  a  skip,"  but  he 
reflected,  for  the  first  time,  how  unpleasant  it 
must  be  to  the  poor  cat  herself.  Then  he 
fell  to  thinking,  as  he  sat  on  his  cousin's 
knee,  his  cousin's  arms  about  him,  how  those 
same  strong  arms  had  gently  carried  him 
home  when  he  had  sprained  his  ankle,  one 
day  last  spring,  thought,  in  so  doing,  Will 
had  had  to  give  up  a  whole  afternoon's  plea- 
sure ;  how,  for  days  after,  Will  would  sit 
reading  aloud  to  him,  instead  of  riding  his 
new  black  horse  ;  how  kind  Will  always  was 
to  anything  small,  or  weak,  or  suffering.  Well 
then,  if  Will,  who  had  done  wonders  in  the 
gymnasium,  if  Will,  who  could  beat  in  a  boat- 
race,  didn't  think  it  beneath  him  to  be  kind  to 
animals,  Jack  would  reconsider  the  matter. 
So,  after  a  long  pause,  Jack  said,  mumbling  a 
little,  to  be  sure  : 

"Well,  I  reckon  Dan  and  I  won't  bother 
Prue  any  more." 


140         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

Will  laughed,  gave  Jack  a  toss  in  the  air, 
set  him  down  again,  and  then  said  : 

"  I've  thought  of  a  plan  for  you  children, 
the  whole  lot  of  you  ;  Mary,  Dan,  and  all." 

"  Pic-nic  ?"  piped  Dan's  little  voice,  through 
the  crack  of  the  door. 

"  Oh,  you're  out  there,  are  you,  Dan  ?"  said 
Cousin  Will,  laughing  again.  "  No,  not  that 
sort  of  plan  at  all.  Call  Mary  and  George, 
and  I'll  tell  you." 

Before  long,  the  four  children  were  gathered 
about  their  tall  cousin,  to  hear  the  new  plan. 

"You  know,  children,"  said  Will,  "that 
some  of  the  grown-up  people  have  got  up  a 
society  by  which  they  hope  to  put  a  stop  to 
a  great  deal  of  the  cruelty  which  is  flourishing 
in  the  world — cruelty  to  animals — horses  and 
dogs,  sheep  and  cows,  and  the  like  " — 

"  And  cats  and  kittens,  I  s'pose,"  put  in 
Dan,  thoughtfully. 

Will  smiled  and  went  on  :  "  They  have 
done  a  great  deal  of  good  already" — 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  George,  who  was 
older  than  the  other  children,  and  liked  to 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         141 

criticise  :  "  you  said  cruelty  was  flourishing  ; 
I  thought  flowers  and  things  flourished." 

"  So  do  weeds  ;  so  do  poisonous  plants," 
said  his  cousin  ;  "  and  cruelty  is  poisonous — 
poisonous  both  to  the  victims  and  the  perse- 
cutors." 

"There,  George,"  said  Jack,  much  impressed 
by  the  last  long  word,  "  you'd  better  not  talk 
again  unless  you  have  something  worth  saying 
— sometimes  people  flourish,  you  know." 

George  wisely  took  no  notice,  and  Will 
continued  : 

"  I  was  saying  that  the  grown-up  people 
had  done  a  great  deal  of  good  already,  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  you  young  ones 
shouldn't  try  the  same  plan,  though  in  a 
different  way,  perhaps." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  should  like  that,"  cried  Mary, 
and  Jack  added  :  "  We'll  tell  you  when  one 
of  the  others  does  anything,  and  then  you  can 
fine  'em,  just  as  they  do  jn  court." 

"  No,  I  won't  have  anything  to  do  with  it, 
if  it's  going  to  make  you  tell  tales  of  each 
other,"  said  Will,  "  but  what  I  propose  is  that 


142         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

each  one  of  you  shall  watch  himself  and  his 
own  doings,  and  then  there'll  be  no  need  of 
your  watching  each  other.  There  isn't  one  of 
you  four  who  would  tell  a  lie  or  deceive  in 
any  way,  so  I  can  trust  you  all." 

"  Well,  about  the  fines  ?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Oh  yes,  the  fines,"  said  Will.  "  If  one  of 
you  ever  should  be  unkind  to  an  animal,  you 
can  fine  yourself  five  cents  " — 

"Oh,  Cousin  Will!"  cried  Jack;  "you're 
grown  up,  you  know,  so  you've  forgotten  what 
a  lot  five  cents  really  is." 

"  Well,  one  cent  at  a  time,  then  :  and  now 
you  must  decide  what  to  do  with  the  fines." 

"  Buy  peanuts,"  suggested  Dan. 

"  No,  that  would  be  for  ourselves,"  replied 
Mary,  "  so  that  wouldn't  do  at  all." 

"  Buy  something  for  Prue  or  the  dogs,"  was 
Jack's  proposal. 

"  Father  and  mother  give  them  they  all 
want,"  said  George. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  give  the'money  to  the 
McElroys — the  poor  family  who  haven't  got 
many  clothes  ?"  asked  Mary. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         143 

"  Oh  yes,  said  the  other  children,  "  that's 
just  the  thing." 

"  Well,"  said  their  cousin,  "  so  you've  settled 
it  as  you  like,  have  you  ?  It's  the  only  way 
in  which  I  wish  the  McElroys  may  not  pros- 
per. Will  you  let  me  belong  to  your  society  ?" 

"  Oh,  you're  too  old,  Cousin  Will,  aren't 
you  ?"  said  Mary.  "  Besides,  you  wouldn't  be 
worth  much  in  the  way  of  fines,  because  you 
are  never  cruel  to  anything." 

"  Nor  you  either,  little  one,"  said  Will ;  "  if 
only  unkind  people  are  to  belong,  you  must 
resign,  at  once." 

"  I  am  too  old,  too,  I  think,"  said  George, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  ;  whereat  Mary 
laughed  so  merrily  that  he  changed  his  mind 
on  the  spot. 

"We  may  all  of  us  do  unkind  things 
thoughtlessly,"  said  their  cousin,  "  though  I 
don't  believe  any  one  of  us  would  ever  intend 
to  do  anything  cruel.  For  instance,  a  boy 
might  whip  a  tired  horse,  thinking  he  was  lazy 
or  obstinate  " — 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  belong,"  said  George, 


144         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

hastily  interrupting,  and  coloring  deeply.  "  I 
suppose  we  are  to  begin  right  off." 

"  I  think  you  had  better,"  replied  Will, 
"  and  when  I  come  home  again,  next  Satur- 
day, I  shall  like  to  know  how  you  get 
along." 

When  next  Saturday  came,  there  were  but 
two  pennies  to  begin  the  fund  for  the  McEl- 
roys.  Jack  and  Dan,  the  chief  mischief-makers 
of  the  family,  had  been  discovered  tying  a 
spool  on  Prue's  tail  for  the  kittens  to  play 
with.  The  kittens  chased  the  poor  old  cat 
about :  the  cat  grew  angry  and  boxed  the 
kittens'  ears,  till  there  was  a  sad  scene  of  dis- 
cord in  the  cat  family, 

"  Maeow  !"  yelled  Prue,  clawing  one  of  the 
kittens  :  "  spurt — fuff !" 

"  Mew,  mew  !"  cried  the  little  one,  her  head 
aching  with  the  blow. 

Fortunately,  at  this  moment,  Mary  ran 
down  the  steps,  untied  the  spool,  stroked 
Prue,  and  trailed  a  string  to  comfort  the 
kittens. 

"'Twasn't  any  harm,  was  it?"  asked  Jack. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         145 

"  The  spool  wouldn't  have  stayed  on  if  you 
hadn't  tied  it  tight  enough  to  hurt  Prue  " — 

"  Well,  I'm  sorry,"  said  Jack. 

And  that  was  the  way  the  two  pennies 
were  laid  up  for  the  poor  people  :  one  by  Jack, 
and  the  other  by  Dan. 

As  time  went  on,  the  McElroys  would  have 
had  a  hard  time  of  it,  if  they  had  depended 
entirely  upon  the  "  Children's  Society,"  for 
Will's  plan  had  the  effect  which  he  had  hoped, 
in  making  the  boys  less  thoughtless  and  more 
gentle  toward  the  dumb  creatures  about  them, 
and  so  there  were  very  few  fines. 

Little  Dan  felt  very  important  when  he  re- 
flected that  he  belonged  to  a  society  very 
much  like  that  got  up  by  the  grown  people, 
and  thought,  in  spite  of  his  Cousin  Will's  ad- 
vice, that  it  would  be  rather  a  fine  thing  for  him 
to  do  just  as  they  did.  He  had  heard  his 
father  read  from  a  newspaper  an  account  of  a 
gentleman  interfering  between  an  ill-tempered 
teamster  and  his  over-worked  horse,  and  now 
determined  to  be  on  the  watch  for  a  chance 
to  do  good  in  the  same  way. 


146         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  A  few  days 
afterward,  a  farmer  was  returning  from  market 
with  his  empty  cart,  when,  just  as  he  came  in 
front  of  Mr.  Arnold's  house,  his  horse  stopped 
short,  and  refused  to  go  farther.  The  farmer 
snapped  his  whip  in  vain  :  the  horse  would 
only  prance  and  curvet  without  going  forward 
a  single  step.  If  Dan  had  been  a  little  older 
and  wiser,  he  would  have  seen  at  once  that 
the  horse  was  still  fresh,  but  so  young  and 
frisky  that  he  preferred  his  own  way  to  his 
master's.  Dan,  however,  did  not  think  of  this, 
but,  only  remembering  the  newspaper  para- 
graph and  his  own  determination,  boldly 
trotted  down  the  steps,  and  confronted  the 
farmer. 

"  You  better  not !"  said  he,  shaking  his 
curls. 

"  Eh  ?"  said  the  farmer,  who  was  rather  deaf. 

"I  'dviseyou  not  to,"  shouted  Dan,  threat- 
eningly. 

"  What  yer  say,  sonnie  ?"  asked  the  farmer, 
in  such  a  pleasant  voice  that  the  little  boy  felt 
rather  ashamed. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         147 

"  I  say,"  he  answered,  his  face  flushing,  "  I 
say,  I'm  going  to  take  the  number  of  your 
cart." 

"  Want  to  take  a  ride  in  my  cart  ?  Wai, 
jump  in,  then,  I'll  h'ist  you  up,  but  you  won't 
get  much  of  a  ride,  I'm  afeared  :  the  horse  is 
dretful  contrairy.  Hop  in,  sonnie." 

"I  b'long  to  a  society,"  said  Dan,  very  loud, 
and  drawing  himself  up,  "  and  we  don't  let 
people  beat  their  horses." 

This  speech  might  have  been  a  very  fine 
one  for  a  grown-up  man,  but  Dan  was  very 
short  and  fat,  and  the-words  sounded  oddly 
enough  coming  from  his  little  round  mouth. 
The  farmer  heard,  at  last,  and  being  a  very 
good-natured  man,  laughed  instead  of  being 
angry. 

"  Haw  !  haw  !"  he  shouted.  "  Wai,  if  that 
ain't  a  good  one  !  You're  a  fine  old  gen- 
tleman, you  are.  I'll  come  and  look  on  when 
you  drive  your  four-in-hand.  I  wa'n't  a  beatin' 
of  him,  sonnie,  only  kind  of  snappin'  of  the 
whip." 

At  this  moment,   much  to  Dan's  relief,  the 


148         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

frisky  horse  took  it  into  his  head  to  make  a 
sudden  start  for  home,  and  the  farmer  drove 
rapidly  away,  turning  his  head  for  a  moment 
to  call  out : 

"  Goodby,  grandfather  ;  my  respects  to  your 
society  !" 

Dan  retired  to  the  house,  crestfallen  and 
depressed  ;  but  he  had  learned  a  useful  lesson, 
namely,  not  to  meddle  with  older  persons' 
affairs,  and  always  to  remember  that  there 
may  be  two  sides  to  a  question. 

He  did  not  feel  sad  long,  however,  for,  on 
going  out  to  the  barn-yard  for  a  play,  he  found 
that  his  father  had  just  brought  home  a  rabbit 
as  a  present  to  Jack.  It  was  a  pretty  creature, 
and  beginning  to  be  quite  tame,  for  Mr. 
Arnold  had  had  it  several  days  already.  Its 
foot  had  been  caught  in  a  trap,  but  it  was  not 
otherwise  hurt.  Mr.  Arnold  had  bought  it  of 
the  Indian  who  had  trapped  it,  and  was  now 
doing  his  best  by  careful  treatment  to  cure  the 
injured  paw. 

"  You  must  take  good  care  of  him,  Jackie," 
his  father  was  saying,  as  Dan  came  by  :  "be 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         149 

sure  that  he  has  enough  to  eat,  and  always 
keep  plenty  of  fresh  straw  in  his  house." 

"  Where  can  I  keep  him,  papa  ?" 

"  Brown  shall  make  a  regular  rabbit  house 
as  soon  as  he  has  time.  If  you  take  good  care 
of  this  little  fellow,  perhaps  I  may  get  a  few 
more  to  keep  him  company.  Until  the  new 
pen  is  ready,  you  may  have  the  old  hen-house  : 
you  see  I  have  put  it  on  the  top  of  two  barrels. 
Be  careful  to  keep  the  door  securely  fastened, 
or  he  may  fall  out." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Jack  ;  "  isn't  he  a 
beauty,  Dan  ?  I'm  going  to  be  very  kind  to 
him,  so  you  can  learn  how  to  treat  animals  by 
watching  me." 

"  He  has  learned  one  way  from  you  already, 
Jack,"  said  George,  who  had  come  out  to  look 
at  the  new  treasure  :  "it  was  you  who  taught 
him  to  chase  the  pigs,  you  know." 

"  His  foot  isn't  quite  well  yet,  is  it,  papa  ?" 
asked  Jack,  suddenly. 

"  Nearly  so,  and  it  will  not  need  much  more 
care.  Now  you  understand,  Jack,  that  you 
are  to  take  the  sole  charge  of  him  yourself, 


150         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

and  be  sure  that  he  always  has  enough  to 
eat." 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  I'll  remember,"  said  Jack 
promptly,  and  I  know  he  meant  to  remember, 
but  so  many  things  may  happen  to  put  such  a 
small  creature  as  a  rabbit  out  of  a  little  boy's 
mind. 

The  rabbit  was  beautifully  cared  for,  for  as 
much  as  a  fortnight ;  but  as  the  novelty  wore 
off  of  possessing  such  a  pet,  Jack  grew  care- 
less of  his  comfort,  and  sometimes  would 
forget  to  feed  him.  Once  he  neglected  him 
for  two  days  together,  and  on  the  third  morn- 
ing, when  he  opened  the  door  of  the  hen- 
house, the  rabbit  was  so  hungry  that  he 
jumped  forward  to  get  the  lettuce  leaves  as 
soon  as  possible.  In  jumping,  poor  Bunnie 
fell  to  the  ground,  and  seemed  stunned  for  a 
moment,  not  trying  to  run  away,  or  even  to 
move  ;  but  when  Jack  had  lifted  him  up, 
and  put  him  back  into  the  house,  he  began  to 
eat,  and  seemed  quite  like  himself  again.  As 
Jack  stood  watching  him,  Brown  came  up  and 
said  that  the  new  house  was  quite  done — would 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         151 

Master  Jack  like  to  move  the  rabbit  ?  Oh  yes, 
Jack  could  not  wait,  Bunnie  must  finish  his 
breakfast  in  his  new  house  :  and  so  Bunnie 
was  carefully  moved  by  Brown,  and  Jack  left 
him  nibbling  away  most  contentedly. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Jack  ran  out  to  see 
how  the  rabbit  liked  the  new  house,  but  he 
found  Brown  already  there,  kneeling  by  the 
open  door. 

"Why,  Brown,  what  are  you  doing  ?  Bun- 
nie'll  run  right  away." 

"  No  sir,  no  hope  of  that,"  said  the  man, 
looking  up  and  shaking  his  head  ;  "he'll  never 
run  again.  His  little  life  is  over,  Master 
Jack." 

Jack  burst  into  tears  as  he  saw  his  poor 
little  pet  lying  stiff  and  cold  on  the  ground. 

"  Oh  Brown  !"  he  cried  ;  "  is  he  really  dead  ? 
What  have  you  done  to  him  ?" 

"  I  didn't  do  anything,"  answered  the  man, 
"  but  I  think  it's  maybe  the  fall  he  had  yester- 
day. He  seemed  sort  of  stunned  like,  you 
know,  Master  Jack." 

Jack  knew  it  only  too  well,  and  his  cruel 


152         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

neglect  of  the  innocent  little  creature  rushed 
to  his  mind.  For  a  moment  he  stood  perfectly 
quiet,  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks,  as 
he  looked  at  the  little  form,  yesterday  so 
warm  and  full  of  life — to-day  so  cold  and  still. 
Then,  raising  it  gently  in  his  arms,  he  laid  it 
against  his  cheek,  carried  it  to  his  father,  and 
told  him  all  about  it. 

"  Oh  papa,"  said  he,  sobbing,  "  if  I  hadn't 
let  him  be  hungry,  he  wouldn't  have  tried  to 
jump,  and  then  he  wouldn't  have  tumbled 
down.  I  am  so  unhappy,  papa ;  I  think  I 
should  feel  better  if  you  were  to  punish 
me." 

"  I  think  you  have  had  punishment  enough, 
my  boy,"  said  his  father,  "  though  perhaps 
you  would  be  less  likely  to  forget,  if  you  went 
at  once  to  tell  George  and  Dan  that  the 
rabbit's  death  happened  through  your  fault." 

"  Oh,  not  George,  please,  papa  !  He  does 
say  such  things.  Don't  you  remember  the 
day  you  brought  Bunnie  home,  and  what  I 
said  to  Dan  ?" 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  a  punishment." 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         153 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Jack,  meekly,  and  went 
in  search  of  his  brothers. 

Tender-hearted  Dan  was  only  kind  and 
sympathizing  upon  hearing  the  sad  tale  ;  and 
though  George  raised  his  eyebrows  and  looked 
severe,  at  first,  he  was  soon  melted  by  Jack's 
penitence,  and  devoted  himself  to  comforting 
his  brother.  Mary  laid  the  rabbit  in  a  box, 
and  they  buried  him  near  a  bush  in  Jack's 
garden. 

About  a  month  after  Bunnie's  death,  the 
children's  Uncle  John,  for  whom  Jack  was 
named,  came  to  see  Mr.  Arnold.  When  he 
went  away,  he  gave  Jack  a  dollar,  to  do  what 
he  liked  with,  and  for  five  minutes  Jack  was 
very  busy  thinking  how  he  would  spent 
it  to  please  himself. 

He  would  take  out  ten  cents  for  some 
sugar-plums  for  Mary,  and  five  cents  for  Dan's 
favorite  peanuts.  Cousin  Will  and  George 
should  each  have  a  present,  and  then  there 
would  be  a  good  deal  left  to  himself.  But 
suddenly  Jack  became  very  serious. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Jackie  ?"  asked  Cousin 


154         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

Will,  who  was  standing  near.     "  You  haven't 
lost  your  dollar,  have  you  ?" 

"  No,  but  let  me  tell  you,  please.  I  was 
just  thinking  of  all  the  times  I  let  poor  Bunnie 
go  hungry,  you  know,  and  I  never  paid  any 
fine  at  all — I. forgot  all  about  it :  and  when  he 
died — it  was  so  dreadful — I  don't  mean  that 
even  a  lot  of  dollars  gould  make  up,  but — 
don't  you  understand,  Cousin  Will  ?" 

"  I  have  an  idea  of  what  you  mean,  I  think," 
said  Will,  kindly. 

"  Well,  I  can't  explain  exactly,  but  I  mean 
I  want  to  show — not  to  show  off,  either,  but 
to  show  to  myself — that  I'm  too  sorry  for  what 
I've  done  to  count  every  cent  and  see  how 
much  I  owe  for  fines  ;  so  I  mean  to  give  the 
McElroys  the  whole  dollar,  and  not  tell  any- 
body, either,  but  just  you." 

"Ho!"  said  George, "suddenly  putting  his 
head  in  at  the  window  ;  "  a  dollar  isn't  so 
very  much.  I  know  »  fellow  who's  got  three, 
and  he's  going  to  save  'em  up  to  buy  a 
watch." 
.  "  I  would  rather  Jack  should  give  part  of 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         155 

his  money  away,  for  he  won't  need  a  watch 
for  several  years,"  said  Will,  putting  his  hand 
on  Jack's  shoulder  ;  "it  shows  a  noble  spirit 
to  wish  to  do  so  secretly.  But,  Jackie,  boy, 
have  you  a  right  to  give  away  the  dollar  ? 
You  know  Uncle  John  meant  that  you  should 
buy  something  with  it." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  he  meant  that  I  should 
do  precisely  what  I  liked  with  it ;  he  said 
so." 

The  dollar  was  invested  in  caps  for  the 
McElroy  boys.  Mrs.  Arnold  added  some  cast- 
off  jackets,  and,  with  these  presents  and  a 
basket  of  groceries,  Jack  and  Dan  started  off 
to  make  a  call  on  the  poor  family,  on  the  next 
Saturday  afternoon. 

The  McElroys  were  delighted  with  their 
presents,  and  the  little  boys  left  them,  feeling 
that  they  had  made  'sad  hearts  happier  in  a 
very  easy  way. 

On  the  way  home,  Dan  said  :  "Jackie,  don't 
you  think  I  ought  to  tell  the  farmer  I'm  sorry 
I  said  that  about  his  horse?" 

"Why,  yes;  perhaps  you'd  better,  only   I 


156         THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

s'pose  he's  forgotten  all  about  it,  by  this  time. 
Well,  come  along,  if  you  want  to,"  and  the 
two  children  turned  back  toward  the  large 
farmhouse  where  the  man  lived. 

They  had  not  gone  far  when  they  met  him 
driving  the  same  frisky  young  horse  which 
had  so  excited  Dan's  sympathy  a  few  weeks 
before.  Now,  to  be  sure,  it  was  not  quite  so 
gay  as  when  we  first  made  its  acquaintance, 
and  it  was  willing  to  stand  quite  still  for  Jack 
and  Dan  to  get  upon  the  wagon ;  for  the 
farmer,  seeing  the  two  boys  and  a  basket 
wandering  along  the  road,  asked  all  three  to 
get  in  and  take  a  ride.  Jack  and  Dan  clam- 
bered up  the  side  of  the  wagon,  the  man 
helping  them  and  the  basket  with  his  strong 
hand,  and  they  were  soon  driving  merrily 
along  the  road,  Jack  at  one  end  of  the  seat, 
the  farmer  at  the  other,  and  Dan  in  the  middle. 

"  Isn't  it  lucky  we  met  him  ?"  asked  Jack. 
"  Now's  your  chance,  Dan  ;  speak  loud,  for  I 
think  he's  deaf." 

Dan  had  been  thinking  what  to  say  for  some 
minutes  past  ;  so  now  he  raised  himself  on  his 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         157 

hands,  so  as  to  be  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
farmer's  ear,  and  shouted  : 

"  I'm  glad  we  met  you  ;  we  were  just  going 
to  see  you,  this  afternoon." 

The  man  looked  very  much  surprised,  and 
stared  at  Dan,  while  the  little  boy  continued  : 

"  Will  you  be  so  kind  enough  to  'scuse 
me," — and  then  the  rest  of  his  little  speech 
went  quite  out  of  his  mind. 

"What-say,  bub?"  asked  the  farmer,  much 
puzzled. 

"I  mean  I'm  sorry  I  said  you  were  beating 
the  horse,  that  day,  you  know." 

"  Wai  now,  do  tell  !  If  you  ain't  that  same 
little  chap  as  said  he  belonged  to  a  society, 
just  like  them  big  folks  down  to  the  city. 
Dear  me,  now !"  and  the  man  laughed  so 
heartily  that  Dan  hung  his  head  and  blushed. 

"  Wai  now,  sonnie,"  said  the  farmer  kindly, 
"you  don't  really  think  that  I  was  a  beatin'  ot 
the  critter,  do  you  ?  I  wouldn't  any  sooner 
hit  him  a  blow  more'n  he  needed,  than  I'd  hit 
you,  little  one." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Dan,  "  I  know  you  wouldn't." 


158          THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY. 

"I'm  often  thinkin'  of  what  the  Bible  says 
about  a  man  bein'  '  merciful  to  his  beast/  and 
I  believe  my  beasts  do  have  mercy  shown  'em. 
How  does  that  'society'  of  yourn  get  on, 
sonnie  ?" 

"  Oh,  we  got  a  lot  of  money  for  fines," 
said  Dan  ;  "  and  we've  just  been  taking  the 
McElroys  some  caps  we  bought  with  it." 

"  The  McElroys  are  poor  people,  you 
know,"  said  Jack,  "  and  the  two  boys  are  out 
of  work,  so  they  haven't  much  to  live  on." 

"  Out  of  work,  are  they  ?"  said  the  man, 
thoughtfully.  "I  don't  know  but  what  I 
might  find  a  place  for  one  of  them  on  the 
farm.  How  old  are  they  ?" 

"The  oldest  is  fourteen,"  replied  Jack,  "and 
such  a  nice  boy.  Papa  has  been  trying  to 
find  a  situation  for  him,  but  I  don't  thi^k  he 
knows  you. .  Our  father  is  Mr.  Arnold." 

Oh  yes,  I  know.  Wai,  I'll  come  and  ask 
him  about  the  young  fellow  on  my  way  back 
from  the  village,  to-night,  and  if  he's  really  a 
good  boy,  and  needs  the  work,  I  think  I  can 
find  enough  for  him  to  do." 


THE  CHILDREN'S  SOCIETY.         159 

"  What  a  nice  man  !"  said  Jack,  as  the 
farmer  put  the  children  down  at  their  own 
door.  . 

"Yes,"  replied  Dan,  thoughtfully.  "I 
never  will  be  impertinent  to  grown-up  people 
again.  It  was  very  naughty,  wasn't  it,  Jackie  ?" 

"  I  suppose  it  was,  but  you  meant  it  all  right, 
and  you're  sorry  for  it  now,  and  that's  a  good 
thing.  If  you  hadn't  begged  the  man's  pardon, 
he  might  never  have  known  about  James 
McElroy,  and  given  him  a  place  on  the  farm." 

So  more  good  than  little  came  from  the 
"  Children's  Society,"  for,  in  a  few  days,  the 
good  farmer  did  find  work  for  James,  and,  in 
course  of  time,  for  his  brother  also.  Every 
horse  and  dog  upon  Mr.  Arnold's  estate 
knew,  before  long,  that  it  would  be  sure  to 
receive  nothing  but  gentle  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  the  boys ;  and,  though  there  were 
very  few  pennies  put  by  for  the  poor  as  fines 
from  ungentle  hands,  there  were  very  many 
sent  away  as  free  gifts  from  the  kind  hearts  of 
the  Arnold  boys. 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 


DISC*  ARGE 


,. 


,. 
NOV 


l\  9  1882 


lOm-11,'50  (2555)470 


W58  White  castles 


PZ5 
W58 


UCLA-Young  Research   Library 

PZ5   .W58 


L  009  618  352  0 


